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THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 































































































































































































































































































The Parliament of Birds 

AND OTHER POEMS 


BY 


ELISE EMMONS 

a 

Author of “Summer Songs Among tke Birds”: “Winter Songs 
Among tke Snow”: “Spring Songs Among tke Flowers” 
“Autumn Songs Among tke Leases” 




Hite Ckristopker Publisking House 
Boston, 11. S. A. 



Ml 7 ^3 

t9z 4- 


Copyright 1924 

By The Christopher Publishing House 



((MADE IN AMERICA I 

‘ ' -- * 

SEP 24 74 

©C1AS08018 

SM"d ( ( ' 







It 







DEDICA TED 

to 

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cMy Father 







FOREWORD 


Elise Emmons, whose Poems now appear for 
the first time in an American edition, is a mem¬ 
ber of a family always associated with traditions 
of Art and Letters. The Hon. Wayman Crow, of 
St. Louis, the well known patron and friend of Art¬ 
ists, was her maternal grandfather; it was he 
whose insight recognized the gift of Harriet Hos- 
mer, and to his encouragement and aid she owed 
all that enabled her genius to hold its right of 
way and achieve success. Matthew Arnold found 
in Mr. Crow a sympathetic friend, who enter¬ 
tained the English essayist and poet in his St. 
Louis home. 

Mrs. Lucien Carr, whose biographical memoir, 
(“Harriet Hosmer; Letters and Memoirs”) is a 
valuable contribution to literature, is the eldest 
daughter of Mr. Crow; and his second daughter, 
Mrs. Edwin Cushman, is the editor and compiler 
of that very unique book of occult literature, “In¬ 
sight,” the origin of which has baffled critics as 
well as Mrs. Cushman herself. She too, was a 
poet, and a little collection of her verse, privately 
printed, is treasured by many a lover of poetry. 

Mr. Crow’s youngest daughter, Mrs. Robert 
Emmons, loved England, where her married life 
was chiefly spent; and when, (in 1917), she 
passed to the life more abundant, it is hardly 
strange that in the quiet days that followed, the 
poetic instinct of her daughter found expression. 
Days of illness, days of enforced inaction, were 
yet illumined for Miss Emmons by faith and vi¬ 
sion. In the lovely surroundings of her home 
in Leamington there were voices in the air, and 
the little verses fell rapidly upon her as she lin¬ 
gered in the garden among rose-trees, or watched 
for stars and sunsets. Something in their sym¬ 
pathy with so many phases of life, and the sweet- 


FOREWORD 


ness and love that breathed through every line, 
met a wide answering response. They voiced 
the ideals of life on which her mother had ten¬ 
derly reared her, and many invalids, and others 
in sorrow, sent responsive thanks for some sunny 
gleam. 

The little volumes previously published, from 
which the present selection is made, bear the 
titles of “Summer Songs Among the Birds”: Win¬ 
ter Songs Among the Snows”: “Spring Songs 
Among the Flowers”, and “Autumn Songs Among 
the Leaves”. Copies of all these have been gra¬ 
ciously accepted by Queen Mary, and Queen 
Alexandra, and by the royal bride, Princess Mary, 
Viscountess Lascelles, and the poem, “A Royal 
Lady,” was published by the Queen’s permission. 

Poetic feeling may reveal itself in many ways, 
and not least among these is that sweetness and 
good cheer in which this little collection abounds. 


Lilian Whiting. 


PREFACE 


Perhaps many readers are not aware that 
Chaucer wrote a poem—quite a long one—en¬ 
titled “The Assembly of Foules” or “The Parlia¬ 
ment of Birds.” I myself did not know of it un¬ 
til about a month after my poem had been pub¬ 
lished, when the information came from a young 
Oxford undergraduate (a relation), who won¬ 
dered if I had taken the name from Chaucer’s old 
poem! This is only another example of the truth 
of that ancient proverb, which declares that 
“There is nothing new under the Sun.” 

If my American friends and readers can find 
a place for these Poems in their hearts, it will 
make glad the writer, and their mission will have 
been fulfilled. E. E. 








































































































































































































































































































































































































































. 

























































































TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Page 


The Parliament of Birds . 15 

Dreams . 22 


A Welcome to H. R. H., the Prince of Wales.. 23 


Little Feet . 

Christmas Time .. 

Grandfather’s Clock . 

A Prayer to Nature . 

To the Girl Guides of Leamington 

Our Avenue . 

A Happy Couple . 

Gypsophila . 

The Rose Arbour . 

What the Rose Thought . 

A Red, Red Rose . 

The Bumble-Bee . 

Cuckoo! Cuckoo! . 

Our Gardener . 

June . 

Nothing Here is Lasting . 

July . 

God is Not in the Trees . 

August . 

The Chimney Sweep . 

The Magic Seven . 

The Verger . 

Dolly . 

London Asleep . 

The Friendly Voice . 

The Races . 

The Week . 

To Sir William Osier . 

A War Memorial . 

Of Inspiration . 

The Passion Flower . 

To a Moonbeam . 

Christ’s Smile . 

On the Grass . 

Evensong . 

The Blue-Tit . 

On a Boisterous Day . 


24 

24 

25 

26 
26 

27 

28 
29 

29 

30 

30 

31 

32 

32 

33 

34 
34 

34 

35 

35 

36 

37 
39 

39 

40 

40 

41 

42 

43 

43 

44 

45 

46 

46 

47 

47 

48 









































10 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Holy Communion . 48 

My Share ..49 

One Little Word . 49 

Meekness . JO 

All in a Life . JO 

In the Dusk. 51 

Lines . 52 

My Brother . 52 

To the Stokers of the Fleet . 53 

Peter . 54 

Of How the Animals May Speak on Christmas 

Night . 55 

Courage . 57 

I Have No Doubt . 58 

On Strikes . 58 

Of Loneliness .. 58 

The Mighty Friend . 59 

The Daylight Breaks . 60 

The Curtain of Life . 60 

Peace in our Garden . 61 

The Granddaughter . 62 

An Invocation . 63 

Chrysanthemums . 63 

Dewdrops. 64 

Crowns . 64 

Lanterns . 65 

When? . 66 

Fuzzy . 67 

Dawn . 68 

Summer Songs Among the Birds . 69 

My White Rose Tree . 70 

The Umbrella Tree . 70 

The Potato . 71 

The Copper Beech . 72 

Thought is Like a Bird . 73 

Our Friends the Trees . 74 

Sleep ... 74 

Duty .‘ ’ 75 

Trust . 75 

Night-Time . 76 

A Summer Morning . 77 

The Canon’s Pigeons . 78 

Our Desire is to Please Him . 79 

Travelling Along . 79 

In Him I Trust . 80 

Sunday .. 80 















































TABLE OF CONTENTS 


11 


Symbols . 81 

What the World Needs . 82 

Night . 82 

My Friend’s Flowers . 83 

Birds at Evening . 84 

To a Scotch Nurse . 85 

Two Stars . 85 

Rain Drops . 86 

An Episode in the Great War . 87 

How Some American Sailors Passed into Glory 88 

The Soldier Lad’s Return . 88 

The Golden Ladder . 89 

Spirit-Friends . 91 

Victory . 93 

The New Year . 93 

Birds in Autumn . 94 

The World’s Unrest . 94 

A Hymn . 95 

Patience . 96 

The Fairy Queen . 96 

The Opal Ring . 97 

The Indian Seat . 99 

The Golden Cup .100 

Our Angel Guest .102 

To Mary, the Mother of Christ .103 

There Are No Dead . 103 

Preface .105 

Rain .105 

A Snowstorm .105 

The Scarecrow .106 

The Summer-House .107 

As Leaves in Autumn .107 

Sushine Thro’ the Rain .107 

The Robin .108 

To Frederick Walsh .109 

The Winter’s Night .109 

To a Daughter of Erin .110 

The Little Black Cat .110 

The Anchor .Ill 

Allotments .112 

The Moonstone .113 

One Daffodil .113 

The Mill Wheel . 114 

What the Lady May Said .114 

The Dustman .115 

To Roddy .116 















































12 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Imagination .H7 

The Star Sapphire .117 

A King Indeed .120 

The Sacred Picture .122 

“Nowt” .123 

To a Picture Entitled “Fancy” .124 

A Fair November .124 

To Dennie .125 

Travelling by Telephone .125 

The Turn of the Wheel .126 

The Gate of Remembrance .127 

A Red Lily .128 

To G. C.128 

Pull Together .128 

The New Life .129 

To a Wheelbarrow .130 

The Shining Land .130 

To E. C. C.131 

To Agnes .131 

Firelight Shadows .132 

A Prayer .133 

Pebbles .133 

Brighter and Brighter Shines the Evening Star 133 

CAN .134 

The Lyre .134 

“Sleep” .134 

Peace in Solitude .134 

The Angels .135 

To Miss Edith Thomson on her Birthday .... 135 

To L. E. 136 

A Child’s Lullaby .136 

The Voices .137 

The Guidance of the Spirit .137 

Retrospection .138 

The Evening Star .139 

Welcome to a Rose .139 

At Sunset .140 

Little Things .140 

Rain .141 

Next Spring .141 

At Last .142 

The Love of Gold .143 

“July” .143 

To Marion Bunner .144 

The Thrush .144 

The Cuckoo .145 














































TABLE OF CONTENTS 13 

The Optimist .145 

Nature a Book .146 

Snow in March .146 

Change .147 

The Poet .147 

A Very Hot Day .148 

Unrest .148 

A Blade of Grass .149 

Two Daisies .150 

A Royal Lady .150 

To Queen Mary .151 

To H. M.151 

Kindred .152 

The Divine Radiance .153 

Thy Presence .153 

A New Course .154 

Towards the Light .155 

One Figure .155 

He Ever Doth Abide .156 

Upward .156 

To-night .157 

Thou Seest Me .157 

Pain .158 

One Morning .158 

Our Glorious Dead .159 

How Beautiful‘is Life .160 

Upon the Heights .160 

To-day.161 

Unity of Nations . 161 

At the Fountain .162 

Sowing and Reaping .162 

Half on Earth and Half in Heaven .163 

The Altar at Home .164 

God Everywhere .164 

Discouragement .165 

To Canon Dickens .166 

Patience .166 

Success .166 

Travelling .167 

O Mother Brown-Earth .168 

A Snowstorm .168 

Sunrise .169 

A November Gale .169 

The Brook .170 

The Twins .170 

The Street Lamp .172 
















































14 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


The Orphan .174 

The Chandelier .175 

Ladders.177 

Robin’s Arrival .177 

Butterflies .178 

The Smile .178 

'The Gypsy King .179 

The Need of Poetry in the World .182 

Of Grief . 182 

At a Graveside .183 

To Scotland .181 

What Say the Birds? . 184 

The Peace .185 

A Mother’s Love .180 

The Garden .180 

To S. E.187 

Youth .188 

To Spider .188 

The Lilies .189 

The Index .189 

A Ball in the Garden .190 

Mary Magdalene .191 

St. Paul ..192 

Easter Sunday .194 

Of Shakespeare .195 

On Milton .190 

Pilgrims .196 

On Darkness .197 

Prayer.198 

To Lilian Whiting.198 

The Coptic Scroll .199 

































ni\e Parliament of Birds 

The Birds of Earth in conclave met one day 
Before a Man their grievances to lay, 

Said they, “Our family is now so vast 
’Tis time these things were remedied at last, 

And if we can just sing our troubles out, 

The World will know what it is all about!” 

So, in a field they gathered, where some trees 
Stood in full leaf, and rustled in the breeze. 

They perched in branches, or sat on the ground, 
While cows and sheep in wonder stood around,— 
And thus the Parliament of Birds began 
To lay its grievances before the Man! 

He in some way, unknown to most, had learned 
To understand Bird talk, and had not spurned 
The tiny birds, who gathered near his door, 

But oftentimes would watch them—more and more 
Delighted with their pretty winsome ways, 

Their graceful shapes, and cheerful songs of praise. 

He ever loved to mark their gladsome flight— 
Aspiring thoughts they brought to his mind’s sight. 
And as he watched them soar into the clouds, 

He marveled at the instinct which these crowds 
Of feathered creatures often could display, 

In all their ways of living day by day. 

So now outspoke a Swallow in these words,— 
“My Lord, Man King, and other fellow Birds, 

T ask you why some foolish beings will 
Not here be guided by our flying skill, 

Which is directed to inform you when 
Rain is expected, or when Sun again 
Shall brightly shine. Why will they always seek 
Barometers to study, week by week? 

Tt hurts our feelings to be thus passed by, 
When we can teach them by the way we fly!” 


16 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


“Dear Swallow,” answered the Man King, “you 
know 

That some folk cannot see you as you go— 

For they are shut in fast behind brick walls, 
Where only the Barometer that falls 
And rises, shows the probability 
If wet or fine the coming weather be!” 

A Nightingale sang out, “I ask you why, 

When we are carolling up towards the sky, 

A music that is hardly rivalled there, 

People will seek far from the open air 
In concert rooms, or hails, or opera stall 
For other music, their souls to enthrall— 

Why other melodies should they prefer 
Than those we offer, their dear hearts to stir?” 

“Variety, my friend, sweet Nightingale, 

Has never yet been known on Earth to fail 
In pleasing men, and you have rivals there— 

The ladies’ voices are so wondrous fair 
That, as he listens, the enchanted male 
Declares them ‘sweeter than a Nightingale’ ! ” 

The Owl spoke next: cried he in tone sedate, 
“Somehow, I always seem to wake too late 
To see the best things that the daylight brings, 
And when the night has fallen, no Bird sings! 

So I gaze on a moonlit, quiet world, 

Nor see the flowers, for their petals curled, 

Are closed up mostly, thro’ their rest at night, 
And so I miss that joyous, happy sight!” 

The Man replied, “Yet, still you have the stars, 
Can hear the soft winds blow, hear the Night-jars, 
Behold the Silver Moon shine o’er the house, 
Catch oftentimes, a wandering grey mouse; 
Enjoy the far-famed beauties of the Night, 

Nor faint beneath the Sun’s too dazzling light! 
You must admit you lead a restful life, 

And mostly sit apart from th^ World’s strife V r 


AND OTHER POEMS 


17 


A Thrush then stuttered forth in rage, 
“They’ve put my brother in a cage!— 

It is a perfectly cruelty 

To show a bird indignity 

Like this—a sweet thing, free and wild, 

Of Nature, too, the perfect child— 

One who the hedgerows would adorn, 

Or crown a blossoming hawthorn; 

Whose speckled bosom swells with pride. 
As carolling the brook beside, 

He pours his whole soul forth in song, 
Nor would another creature wrong! 

To shut him in a narrow cage— 

Ah, me! let this your thought engage!” 

Moved with compassion, spoke the Man, 
“I grieve for you! Your brother can 
No longer freely fly, and rove 
Across the meadows, or above 
Gaily ascend to perch on boughs 
Of trees, and yet he can arouse 
Joy in the hearts of all by song, 

And cheer Mankind, tho’ he belong 
A prisoner to the happy few 
Who own him, and who love him true! 
There still are many thrushes free, 

Who live not in captivity; 

Remember this, and seek to be 
Resigned to your calamity!” 

The Peacock next spoke loud and shrill, 
“I hope no one will take it ill 
If I complain that while we rise 
Above most Birds with our bright eyes, 
Our gorgeous tails, and plumage fine, 
Which shows so gay in the sunshine, 

’Tis hard our voice should be so shrill, 
That some folk say it makes them ill 
To hear us cry across a lawn— 

They wonder we should have been born 
To look so great, and sing so small, 

And this we do not like at all!” 


18 


THE PARLIAMENT OF iilRDS 


The Man replied, “You can’t expect 
In one small compass to collect 
The charms of all the other birds, 

So let me teil you in few words 
That gifts must here divided be, 

Nor given out too lavishly 
To anyone! So be content, 

Tho’ to your beauty is not lent 

The charm of song, which others own, 

Who ravish men with their sweet tone. 

You play your part, and strut witli grace 
Across the lawns of private place, 

In garden, or on castle wall 
You stand and are admired by all! 

Let this suffice—to others leave 
The singing quality, nor grieve. 

The Cuckoo next, with voice confused, 
Proclaimed that he had been accused 
Of imitating certain clocks 
Which, stationary in carved box, 

Yet shouted out, '‘Cuckoo! Cuckoo!’’ 

And this, he stated, was not true. 

For long ago, he learned his note, 

And got it carefully by rote, 

E’en before clocks invented were, 

And here he made so great a stir 
That all the other birds laughed loud. 

And whispers passed among the crowd— 
“We think that he has not confessed 
That he can’t make himself a nest, 
Which is a nuisance to the rest 
Of us. For he invades our homes, 

And when he’s grown, away he roams, 
Nor says in gratitude, ‘Thank you’!” 

But cries, ‘I’m off! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” 
So he departed in a huff, 

Muttering, “O! enough! enough!” 

A Magpie then rose up and cried, 

I ask \ou, now, Man King, decide 
If there is any reason why 
A person who doth see us fly 
Should be considered as unlucky, 

Tho’ he meet life with aspect plucky? 


AND OTHER POEMS 


19 


And why should men say, “01 you must 
Bow seven times toward the dust 
If you a magpie do behold?’ 

The folly of this makes one bold 
To seek in some way for redress, 

That shall wipe out such foolishness!’’ 

The Judge and Arbiter of Birds 

Laughed when he heard the Magpie’s words! 

“It is not possible, I fear, 

From superstition men to clear! 

Their minds will still such fancies hold — 
They are clung to by young and old! 

Some even say that a bird may 
Be caught, and taken any day 
If just a little salt you place 
Upon his tail! What a disgrace! 

For who can come so near a bird 
As to spread salt? It is absurd! 

I greatly fear, O Magpie dear, 

That silly fancy lingers here, 

And cannot yet removed be, 

So fly you back to yonder tree!” 

A Robin next came on, with head 
Of brown, and breast of brilliant red. 

And something ’twas like this he said: 

“In Winter when I come in view, 

I meet a welcome warm and true, 

The people laugh with unfeigned glee, 

And cry aloud most cheerfully— 

‘Ha! there he is, the little Robin! 

How gracefully he comes a-bobbin 
All up and down, now Winter’s here! 

He is a perfect little dear!’ 

With that red breast against the snow, 

They love to see me, that I know! 

But when the Summer suns are hot, 

The people seem to see me not! 

And tho’ I hop among the roses, 

The Ladies just turn up their noses, 

And never give a word of praise, 

Nor seem to notice—tho’ I laze 
About all day, amid the bushes, 

And watch the Blackbirds and the Thrushes!” 


20 


THE PARLIAMENT OE BIRDS 


‘‘Well, well!” replied the great Man-King, 

“You must not mind this little thing! 

Y r ou have your place at Christmas-time, 

And poets place you oft in rhyme! 

While you on Christmas Cards are seen 
More often than the King and Queen. 

What greater honour can there be 
Than thus to rival royalty? 

I would not fret if I were you 
That sometimes you are lost to view. 

Nothing can always be in season, 

And birds must rest sometimes—that’s Reason!” 
So Robin puffed his little breast, 

And hopped away, to make the best 
Of this advice, which well he knew 
Was friendly counsel—wise and true! 

The Blue-tit next chirped out, “Our fav’rite food. 
The cocoanuts so sweet, with flavour good, 

Here in this climate cold do not grow out— 

We have to search for them around about! 

Some folk remember, and some folk forget 
To hang them for us, just where we can get 
At their rich meat—milky, and white, and sweet, 
Without at all wetting our tiny feet!” 

Surprised, the Man King answered, “You amaze 
Me with this grievance! ’Tis almost a craze! 
Dear little Tits, I fear that in wet weather 
Some careless folk forget you altogether! 

The World, so big, is full of larger Birds, 

Unless you can somehow make known your words, 
And clearly manifest what things you want, 
Your satisfaction often will be scant!” 

Then several Hens from the barnyard 
Came clucking, “It is rather hard 
That when a lovely egg we’ve made, 

And in a quiet spot it’s laid, 

Someone is sure to come that day 
And steal our fair new egg away! 

Now if it had been left awhile, 

So Time could on our efforts smile, 

A lovely chick we might have hatched, 

And all its happy growing watched 
Till it could walk about and strut!” 


AND OTHER POEMS 

The Man King answered, “Tut! tut! tut! 

You know that eggs were made to eat! 

And from their most nutritious meat 
Mankind great benefit derive. 

And little children on them thrive! 

Indeed few things are more desired 
Than good fresh eggs, and oft required— 

So rest content when people take 
Your eggs, for welcome food they make!” 

A Cock next sang out loud and clear, 

“You know my name is Chanticleer! 

And I’m engaged to sing at dawn, 

And tell the world that it is morn— 
Suggest they ope their sleepy eyes, 

And gaze with joy on the sunrise! 

Yet half the world will stay in beds, 

Nor lift their somewhat lazy heads! 

I crow and crow, but still in vain— 

The folk will drop asleep again! 

What use for me to sing at all, 

If no one answers to my call?” 

The Man King smiled—“We know the world 
At early dawn is mostly curled 
In happy, drowsy, slumbrous sleep, 
Absorbed in dreaming dreams so deep 
That they to you oblivious are— 

Their spirits soar and wander far 
From thoughts of rising to behold 
Dawn’s beauties, ere they have grown old! 
And, mark my words, oft when you call 
Mankind do not hear you at all!” 

Then suddenly amid the hush 
Of the assembly, spoke a Thrush, 

“I have but one complaint to make, 

And hope you no offence will take— 

My speckled coat of brown and white 
Too simple is by day and night. 

I wear it till I am quite tired, 

For other Birds are more admired— 

And yet I think my song is sweet 
As any other Bird’s you meet! 

Perhaps somehow a little change 
Of plumage you could just arrange?” 


22 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The Man King answered, ‘'My dear Thrush, 

1 beg you will these murmurs hush! 

We love to see you—coat well worn— 

Hopping about the garden lawn! 

Its mottled brown accords so well 
With foliage of each leafy dell. 

VVe are so very glad, you see, 

To hear your cheerful melody, 

That we don’t care for plumage rare. 

But much prefer to know you’re there. 

So please, dear Thrushes, be content, 

Let joy with music all be blent.” 

A thunderstorm then drawing nigh 
Caused all the birds away to fly. 

And the Man King himself, alone, 

His steps retracing one by one, 

Sought shelter in a leafy wood, 

And as beneath the trees he stood, 

The whole thing was just like a dream!— 

And yet he thought each bird did seem 
To have a grievance of its own, 

And no one without heart of stone 
Could fail to listen and be moved 
By all their troubles, tho’ they proved 
Not easy here to remedy. 

For God created birds to be 
Governed by laws to suit their kind, 

Nor could a Man’s more finite mind 
Improve on such a wondrous plan 
Prevailing since the world began. 

When next the birds sought that same ground, 
The Man King was not to be found! 

And so the Birds’ quaint Parliament 
Dissolved, and was not permanent. 


DREAMS! 

If my dreams come gently (lowing, 
Ever day by day; 

If their light is past my knowing, 
Shall I say them nay? 


AND OTHER POEMS 


23 


Lies not hidden in the future 
Something well worth while, 

Shall 1 not trust, hope, and gather 
Strength for every mile? 

Blind and faltering—treading—stumbling 
Onward must we go! 

Still the murmuring—hush the grumbling, 

It is better so! 

Dream again, then live your dreaming, 

Make your life so full 
Of kind thoughts and active scheming, 

When the heart-strings pull. 

Sometime you shall wake to rapture 
Beyond Earthly day. 

There your dreams you may recapture, 
Keeping them for aye! 

A WELCOME TO 
H. R. H. THE PRINCE OF WALES 

On the occasion of his visit, June 14th, 1923. 

We welcome the Prince to our Leamington Spa! 
Tho’ seas he has traversed, and lands near and far, 
We incline to believe that this beautiful place 
May equal all others, in charm and in grace. 

Our hearts are as loyal as any lie’s found, 

And beating with longing to show him around! 
Where the Pump Rooms and Gardens lie sheltered 
and fair, 

The whole town to see him is gathering there! 

So gallant and brave is this young Prince of ours, 
We count him as one of the World’s greatest 
powers 

To further the feeling of Love and Goodwill, 
Which through all the ages should govern us still! 

Right princely in heart, and most noble in 
thought, 

Where pathways are steepest, his course he has 
fought— 

Let us follow his leading—his tact never fails— 
O welcome, loved Edward—our dear Prince of 
Wales! 


24 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
LITTLE FEET 


Little feet can swiftly go 

Thro’ the slush and o’er the snow! 

Little feet seem shod with wings, 

Doing multitudes of things! 

Little feet are blessed indeed, 

Hastening by with happy speed! 

Little feet can work for God, 

Following where the Saints have trod. 

Little feet may comfort bring, 

Causing happy hearts to sing! 

Little feet are full of glee, 

Dancing, skipping merrily! 

Little feet tread cautiously 
Where the sick and weary be. 

Little feet may help the old 
In a thousand ways untold! 

Little feet, O may you be 
Always close and dear to me! 


CHRISTMAS TIME 

O! Christmas is a-comin’, and a-comin’ round 
again! 

We welcome it with gratitude, and that is very 
plain; 

It comes to break the long cold Winter we must 
wrestle through, 

And if ’twere not for Christmas—why, whatever 
should we do? 


AND OTHER POEMS 25 

So, here is Christmas coinin’, and a-comin’ round 
again! 

It may be rain or snow will splash against the 
window-pane— 

We shall not care if by the fire we cosily can sit, 

And think of friends, both near and far, exchang¬ 
ing fun and wit! 

For Christmas is a merry time, with jokes and 
laughter full, 

With crackers, and plum-puddings, and a contin¬ 
uous bell-pull, 

For the postman, keeps a-comin’, and a-comin’ by 
again, 

And his bag is never empty—never, that is truly 
plain! 

Then give we thanks for Christinas, ’tis a blessing 
from the Lord! 

I! brightens up the Winter, and is full with many 
a word 

Of love and true remembrance, and ere the shad¬ 
ows fall, 

Let me wish you now, kind readers, 

“Merry, merry Christmas all!” 

GRANDFATHER’S CLOCK 

The great, tall clock is ticking by the stairs: 

It tells a tale of constant watchfulness: 

No hour escapes that marker unawares— 

No minute passes, he does not possess. 

Two hands that meet in hourly action there, 
Two feet that stand erect, and never tire! 

’Tis true they are not folded hands in prayer. 
They meet, and part, and then again draw 
nigher. 

Grandfather’s Clock has stood for many years 
Presiding o’er the entrance to our hall, 

Has timed for us our happiness, or tears, 

Has gone on ticking thro’ the lives of all. 

And still it stands—a Monument of Time, 

Which Time itself can hardly touch or spoil! 

Grandfather’s Clock with the melodious chime 
That calls us to our play—our prayer, or toil! 


26 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
A PRAYER TO NATURE 


Give me thy strength, 0 tree, to last, 

And to withstand the wintry blast! 

Give me thy sweetness, lovely flower, 

To fill the world with joy each hour. 

Give me thy wondrous power, green Grass, 
To spring again when sorrows pass. 
Give me thy freshness, perfect Air, 

To heal and comfort everywhere. 

Give me the soaring power, 0 Birds, 

To raise my life above mere words. 

Give me thy faithfulness, 0 Hound, 
Devotion true that knows no bound. 

From each fair thing that God has made 
May come a gift that’s never paid. 

I, Nature’s praise would truly sing, 

And to her shrine this offering bring! 


TO THE GIRL GUIDES OF LEAMINGTON 

Brownies, and Girl Guides, the future before you 
Lies like a mystery wrapt in a dream! 

Fathers and Mothers, who love and adore you, 
Trod Life’s same pathway, though strange it may 
seem! 

Wide is the roadway, uncertain the issue, 

Varied the stations ye pass on the way, 

Deep is the darkness, and tangled the tissue, 
Doubtful for all men, the end of Life’s Day. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


27 


Brownies, and Girl Guides, still ye a Leader 
Require to help you, and show you the Path— 
One, a great General, have we, a Pleader, 

For those who follow Him—rare gifts He hath! 

Choose Him, and take Him to-day and for ever; 

Follow His Guidance—’tis sent from above. 
Once in His keeping, He looseth you never— 

His Banner is wrought with the magic word 
"Love.” 

What is the goal then, and what is the guerdon? 

What is the end towards which all must strive? 
Guiding your fellows, and lifting the burden, 
Making this old Earth a good place to live! 


OUR AVENUE 

Our avenue is fair to see, 

Composed of lime and chestnut tree! 

Long rows of each, on either hand, 

In well-placed symmetry they stand. 

The tired people from the town, 

In search of rest, walk up and down! 

They find the breezes cool and sweet, 

And sometimes pause to take a seat. 

The fields are full of lambs and sheep; 

The cows respectful distance keep; 

The church bells chime and tell the hour— 
They speak of peace and God’s own power. 

If walking be the greatest pleasure! 

If talking be a dangerous measure! 

Then on the avenue we’ll find 
Silence, that gives us peace of mind. 

“For every word,” Our Savior said, 

“That you have careless uttered, 

You shall be judged,” remember this, 

Nor talk to spoil your future bliss. 


28 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The tongue, altho’ it small may be, 

Is fraught with fearful destiny! 

So let us oftentimes be still, 

Nor run against the Heavenly Will. 

The rain comes down—it matters not, 
The weather can’t be always hot! 

The avenue will keep us dry 
If underneath the trees we fly. 

“Write on,” my Muse commands, and I, 
Obey, tho’ wondering inwardly 
If anyone will care to see 
These lines I’ve writ so leisurely. 


A HAPPY COUPLE 

I know a happy couple, tho’ they’re always dressed 
in black, 

And they run along together at such a rapid 
pace! 

To take advantage of wet weather they are never 
slack! 

Each wears a bit of yellow just to decorate 
his face. 

They like to see our grassy lawns—they often call 
in Spring! 

They wear no gaudy colours, tho’ their black 
is glossy too! 

They both keep rather cpiiet when the other fel¬ 
lows sing; 

They look quite startled if they catch a glimpse 
of me, or you! 

Now the secret of this story, I am here about to 
tell, 

And you’ll understand the reason when I 
whisper it in glee! 

For this quaint young couple, who in spite of all 
look rather swell, 

Are just two active Blackbirds running under¬ 
neath that tree! 


AND OTHER POEMS 

GYPSOPHILA 


29 


There is a llittle feathery plant, 
Gypsophila its name! 

The sight of it doth memory haunt, 
We wonder whence it came? 

More like a mist upon the grass, 

So fine, transparent, fair; 

As if the Sun had dew-drops kissed, 
And then they rose in air. 

Rebellious, seeking to escape 
His too warm, loving beams! 

Changed into fine, and feathery shape, 
Gypsophila of dreams! 

Mix it with other blossoms rare, 

A lightness it doth give, 

A sort of brightness everywhere, 
Almost too fine to live! 

Gypsophila! Gypsophila! 

With quaint expressive name! 

An ornament in truth you are, 

We wonder whence you came! 


THE ROSE ARBOUR 

All trailing, and clinging, just over our path, 

0! see what fair beauty the rose arbour hath,— 
A roof of red crimson, and walls of pure green 
Are sweeter than anything else we have seen 

Beneath, the whole world may unknowing go by. 
They reck not what wealth lies ’twixt them and 
the sky; 

They forget that the Rose is a symbol on earth 
Of beauty and mystery—charm, and all worth! 

Stay with us, fair Ramblers, as long as you can. 
Increase, and don’t cease, in your ravishing plan 
For turning all things to the world as it goes. 
Into what is well known as “Couleur de Rose!” 


30 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
WHAT THE ROSE THOUGHT 


So happy is the Rose, 

That in Her bosom lies, 

Before Her eyelids close, 

Before the Daylight dies! 

0! give me just one hour. 

To be with Her like this! 

To share in Beauty’s dower! 

For me is perfect bliss! 

I ask not long to live, 

To bloom upon a tree, 

Rather to me O give, 

This rare felicity! 

To be the only Rose, 

In that fair hand today, 

Ere evening shades oppose, 

And carry me away! 

Then shall I pass in peace, 

Saying, “The joy was mine! 

For one day to increase 
A beauty so divine!” 

A RED, RED ROSE 

Behold the red, red Rose! It hangeth on a tree, 

And every wind that blows may come that Rose 
to see! 

So in the mo rning fair, it shineth on the thorn, 

And smileth there to see the lovely day new-born! 

Oh! every young, young heart, it waketh to the 
life 

Of each bright dawning day, for toil, for love, 
for strife! 

And every evening sees some good work finished 
here, 

As with each seting sun, we draw to God more 
near. 


AND OTHER POEMS 

THE BUMBLE-BEE 


31 


O Bumble-bee! 

When you I see, 

You speak to me 
Of Industry! 

Striped black and gold 
Together rolled, 

Your flight you hold 
In manner bold. 

So steadily 
And so swiftly, 

O humble bee! 

O Bumble-bee! 

Y'ou whizz along, 

Singing your song; 

To you belong 

The whole glad throng. 

Of fragrant flowers, 

In sunny hours. 

Thro’ your keen powers 
Honey is ours! 

No tumbling—no stumbling— 
No rumbling—no jumbling— 

No mumbling—no grumbling— 
No fumbling—no crumbling— 

Is yours, Bumble-bee! 

But just a glad flight, 

Thro’ light day, or dark night, 
When our sight you refresh, 
With your motion so light, 

O dear Bumble-bee! 


32 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


CUCKOO! CUCKOO! 

What lovely sound has greeted us upon this Sab¬ 
bath morn? 

The wind was blowing cold and drear—making us 
feel forlorn. 

A snowy aspect filled the sky, where clouds shut 
out the blue, 

When suddenly a tiny voice rang out—“Cuckoo’ 
Cuckoo!” 

A smile ran round the faces of the gloomy com¬ 
pany. 

‘'Just hark to that!” said one and all, “There’s 
Spring-like melody!” 

No matter if the wind is cold, that sound comes 
clear and true, 

A well-known voice we love to hear, crying— 
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” 

\ little later in the day a snow-storm blew about; 

We scarcely dared to leave the fire—much less to 
venture out! 

But once again that happy thought across our 
fancies flew— 

The first time in the year, today, we’ve heard 
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo! 


OUR GARDENER 

He digs the potatoes, and delves in the soil— 

There’s nothing accomplished on earth without 
toil! 

By the sweat of his brow he must show what he’s 
worth,— 

For this is the rule on our busy old Earth! 

Ply the spade, push the barrow, or work with the 
hoe,— 

It is thus we prepare for the crops ere they grow. 

“If the sunshine’s too hot—fetch a watering-can; 

If it’s wet, sit and wait,” says the gardener man! 


AND OTHER POEMS 33 

Plant the seed,—lift the weed,—yes! it’s back- 
aching work, 

3, must rest”—he confest—“I never do shirk! 
What with watching, and toiling, and moiling all 
day, 

I am sure a good gardener deserves all his pay!” 


JUNE 

Waves of sunlight softly stealing 
As the morning dawns, 

Some of Nature’s wealth revealing 
On our grassy lawns. 

See, oh! see the dew-touched meadows 
Lying wide out there. 

Come and hunt with me the shadows 
While the morning’s fair. 

Summer’s bliss awaits us truly 
On this bright June day. 

Where the zephyrs, all unruly, 

With the flowerets play. 

Come, where birdies start their singing, 
By the hedge or road: 

Hear their praises gladly winging 
Up to God’s abode. 

Come where stream, or brook, or river 
Flows towards the sea, 

Where the willow leaves do quiver, 

And dance merrily! 

Can you tell me why the heart beats 
Out its sweetest tune, 

And melody with rapture meets? 

‘Tis the month of June! 


34 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


NOTHING HERE IS LASTING 

Nothing here is lasting; 

Nothing here remains! 

What’s the use of seeking 
Then, for earthly gains? 
Choose a heavenly dower; 

Seek for strength of soul: 
Arm thyself with power, 

As Life doth unroll! 


JULY 

When the suns of bright July, 

Gleaming, shine across the sky, 

When the heat is lying thick. 

Blazing on each roof and brick, 

When we seek a darkened room, 

Love to look on shades of gloom— 
Then we know July is here, 

Hottest month of all the year. 

When the Angler haunts the stream, 
And the Poet dreams his dream, 

And the Artist seeks a nook 
By some gurgling, laughing brook, 

And the lover seeks the shade 
Of some nearby sheltered glade, 

There to woo, and win his maid 
With sweet nothings whisp’ring said— 
Then we know July is here, 
Brightest month of all the year. 


GOD IS NOT IN THE TREES 

God is not in the Trees, altho’ He made the Trees; 
God is not in the Wind, altho’ He made the Breeze; 
God is not in the Air, altho’ He’s everywhere; 

But God is in my Soul, and I shall find Him there. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


35 


AUGUST 

Gleaming white, and golden yellow, shine the 
iiowers m the meadows; 

Slowly creep the lowing cattle, and the sheep 
across the lea; 

Wav’ring, quav’ring on the ground, so darkly lie 
the heavy shadows 

From the boughs, and branches of each sentinel, 
upstanding tree! 

Glowing hot, and glory giving, pours the sun its 
mighty beams, 

Through the ether spaces to this rolling sphere 
of ours! No dearth, 

But each atom filled with teeming life, and moving 
lovely dreams, 

For the August heat has come back once again 
upon our Earth! 

Happy hearts, and hopes upraising, thankfully 
we look to see 

What great wonders are provided, and such 
blessings sent by Thee! 

Daily, humbly, here we mortals, should be prais¬ 
ing thankfully, 

Wond’ring, taking, making gladness out of all 
these things that be! 

THE CHIMNEY SWEEP 

I sing a song of the Chimney Sweep— 

Nothing too wise, and nothing too deep! 

Just a short lay to tell of his worth, 

Who helps to clean our smoky old Earth! 

Black is his face, and blacker his hands! 

But all about soot he understands! 

He can push his brush up chimneys tall: 

He can rake and scrape at chimneys small! 

Bright arc his eyes if black is his fac». 

His work he does with good-natured grace! 

The parlour-maid smiles when he comes her way 

She knows he’ll remove the soot to-day! 


36 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


I sing a song of the Chimney Sweep! 

A place for him in our hearts we’ll keep; 

A picturesque sight is he on earth— 

Yet nobody envies him his berth. 

Come along, Chimney Sweep, with your brush, 
Every complaint and murmur we’ll hush. 

For coal is so scarce, and heat is dear— 

The way for a real good fire you’ll clear! 


THE MAGIC SEVEN 

“We are seven,” said the Rosebush, as it smiled 
at me one day, 

And I looked and saw it bore seven blushing Roses, 
fair and gay; 

Pink and lovely was each blossom, perfect, grow¬ 
ing on the thorn. 

Every day the colour deepened, when I sought 
it in the morn. 

0! so lovely was the Rosebush, standing by a 
tiny door— 

Far from noise of rushing tumult, or the city’s 
great loud roar— 

Emblem of the magic number, one among the 
mighty Sevens, 

For that is the occult number, governing beneath 
the Heavens. 

Seven days in every week, and seven colours the 
prism shows; 

Seven colours in the rainbow, which delights us 
ere it goes; 

Seven notes of music go to make up the chromatic 
scale; 

Seven planets placed around our earth all tell 
a mighty tale. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


37 


Seven days God took—creating all the Universe 
we know— 

Days, or aeons, who can solve the mystery that 
puzzles so— 

Seven churches—seven angels—seven trumpets by 
the throne; 

Seven is the mystic number of perfection we 
must own. 

So, sweet Rosebush, you have joined of “Sevens” 
the great company, 

I congratulate you truly—take a reverence from 
me. 

And stay with us just as long as you can, 0 most 
lovely Rose,— 

Nothing fairer shall we see here this side of next 
Winter’s snows 

THE VERGER 

One year I chanced to stay awhile abroad— 

The season had been long, and I was bored 
With London gaieties—the rush and roar 
Of life there did fatigue me more and more. 

And so I nought a village in fair France, 

A quiet spot, where one could well advance 
In writing literature; a poem or book 
Might soon be compessed in this quite nook. 
There was a little Chapel, too, near by 
I oft attended, and I wondered why 
The Verger, whom I always there had seen, 
Should be possessed of such a noble mien. 

Tall and sedate, his duties he fulfilled 
Early and late, no matter when one willed 
To enter there, it all was fresh and fair, 

A tranquil place for meditative prayer. 

With massive brow, and heavy eyebrows, he 
Would enter, or depart quite solemnly. 

And through his eyes—those windows of the 
soul— 

A noble, kindly spirit shone. A scroll 

T once perceived him reading studiously 

In Grecian letters. It amazed me he 

Should so well taught and educated be 

That he could read what still was Greek to me. 


38 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


I questioned of a lady in the town 
If she knew aught about this Verger. Down 
She cast her eyes, and said she often thought 
He must be well born, and perhaps we ought 
To seek him out, and make life bright for him,. 
Who looked oft-times so sad, and thin of limb. 

It chanced that for a week I went away 
To visit friends, who near Dieppe did stay; 

And when I came back to my village fair 
The noble Verger was no longer there. 

I met my friend again, who said to me, 

“That foreign man wrapped round in mystery, 
From our midst has departed, and I know 
Now, both why he came here, and why did go.” 

He was a Russian, of most noble birth, 

And owned possessions of vast wealth, and worth, 
But for a season he had willed to come 
And live an exile from his native home, 

Serving his God in humble duty here; 

Striving his work to do with Christian cheer. 

But while you were away an edict came 
Signed by the Czar himself, to say his name 
Was on a list of those who must go forth 
To fight for Russia, so he started North! 

And much I fear we never more shall see 
That noble Verger, filling carefully 
His sweet and simple duty every day, 

Within that little Church wherein we pray.” 

Regret encompassed me for quite a while, 

As I remembered his kind, peaceful smile. 

But then I said, “No doubt God knoweth best 
And other work for him w r as good,” so lest 
My thoughts should be disturbed when I would 
pray, 

I sought another Church after that day. 


AND OTHER POEMS 39 

DOLLY 

Come forth from your hiding place, Dolly, my 
dear. 

I need you this wet afternoon. 

The stormy day draws from my eyelids a tear. 

A frown will be gathering soon. 

Let’s play in the parlour a happy new game, 

I’ll toss you up into the air; 

You shall dance like Pavlova, or “jazz”—’tis the 
same, 

If only the music is there! 

And then I’ll undress you, and take off your 
clothes. 

To see how they really are made. 

I’ll rub up your cheeks, yes, and polish your nose 
To make it a healthier shade! 

You shall sit on my lap till the tea tray comes in. 
Or rest in a soft easy chair. 

I’ll loosen the cap strings from under your chin, 
And let down your fine glossy hair. 

And then when the night comes I’ll put you to 
sleep 

At the foot of my own cosy bed. 

We’ll rest there together till Sunbeams do peep 
In next morning, and rest on your head. 


LONDON ASLEEP 

When all the great city of London lies sleeping, 
When hushed is the toil and the strife, 

And just for a while, there’s an end to the weep¬ 
ing, 

And quiet has charge of the Life. 

Then like some wild Sea, when the storm passes 
over, 

It rests in a silence profound. 

The star-studded heavens surmount it, and cover 
And darkness has rule o‘er the ground. 


40 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


So London is waiting—a wondrous world power— 
A small kingdom all of its own. 

The riches, and brains of the Earth are its dower. 
Its future looms vast, and unknown! 

THE FRIENDLY VOICE 

There is a friendly voice that comes at night 
Often when I am tired and alone, 

It cheers me up, and makes me feel quite bright— 
It is a voice across the telephone. 

No train is needed, and no motor-car 

To take me to that gentle, friendly tone, 

Far from the world’s distracting fret and jar— 

It reaches me across the telephone. 

I see no form, no troubled face, no tear. 

I listen all enchanted, and alone! 

I bless the friendly voice that calls me “Dear,” 
And readies me across the telephone! 

There is a little sound of tinkling bell, 

Quite different from the front door bell I own! 

I recognize the sound, and know it well, 

And fly to listen to the telephone. 

If you are sad, and you cannot rejoice, 

And all the world seems hard and turned to 
stone, 

Go! listen to that little friendly voice 

That calls to you across the telephone. 


THE RACES 

To the Races! To the Races! where the course lies 
o’er the Down, 

’Neath the shelter of the old stone Gates, and 
walls of Warwick Town! 

Can we do a better stunt, think you, this rainy 
afternoon, 

Than to drive across from Leamington—we’ll not 
be there too soon? 


AND OTHER POEMS 41 

To the Races! To the Races! by the tram or motor¬ 
car! 

There the gathering crowds across the land are 
stretching near and far; 

While the rain, as usual, in great Hoods comes 
pouring, pouring down, 

And the quaint old streets are full enough in good 
/ old Warwick Town! 

To the Races! To the Races; while the season is 
yet young, 

Ere the snows and blows of Winter have the knell 
of comfort rung; 

Ere the hungry Birds seek for their food, on 
banks and hedge-rows sweet, 

And the sound that stirs our blood up is the sound 
of horses’ feet! 

To the Races! To the Races! 0! pray come along 
with me, 

And I’ll show you where to rest awhile, beneath 
a stout oak tree, 

Where every horse that gallops towards the win¬ 
ning post must pass 

Beside us, as we stand to watch upon the rain- 
soaked grass! 


THE WEEK. 

On Monday, with the rising Sun, 

We cry, “The new week hath begun!” 

On Tuesday we exclaim, “There’s work 
Which no one can, or ought to shirk!’ 

On Wednesday, just before our lunch, 

We read “The Tatler,” “Sketch,” and “Punch!” 

On Thursday, someone’s sure to say, 

“Why this is early closing day!” 


On Friday, we exclaim aghast, 

“0! look! the week is nearly past.” 


42 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


On Saturday, amazed we cry, 

‘'Why, how soon this week has slipped by!” 

And then the blessed Sabbath comes 
Again with rest to many homes. 

Yet I have heard some people call 
Sunday the busiest day of all! 

Tis thus the weeks lly by so fast, 

That e’en a month will soon be past. 

And ere we can say “Lo! ’tis here” 

Behold the end of all the year! 

TO SIR WILLIAM OSLER. 

Lines suggested by the death of Sir William Osier. 

Great Master of the precious healing Art, 

By men beloved, and by the Angels blest, 

Just for a time thou leavest us to rest, 

And tho’ with grief we know that we must part, 
The memory of thy tender, loving heart 
That put all powers of Science to the test 
For Mankind’s benefit, by pain opprest, 

Remains with us, altho’ thou dost depart. 

Look on us from thy higher station now. 

Forbid the tears to fall and overflow; 

Recall the* glorious work, which thou hast done 
For men of every land beneath the Sun. 

It comforts us to know that at Heaven’s door 
The Great Physician heals for evermore. 

Death calls at last to take us all away! 

We pass thro’ night—and reach Eternal Day! 
One little step, one breath, and lo! we stand 
With angels in the far Celestial Land. 

Oh! glorious transition! weep not so! 

Fill not the world with mourning, and with woe. 
For whoso dreams of Perfect Life, and fair, 
Must know ’tis to be found not here, but there! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
A WAR MEMORIAL. 


43 


Shall we forget how they laid, down their lives 
For us, those gallant, splendid men and true? 
How, prompted by the duty-thought that drives, 
They left beloved homes, and quickly flew 
To fight for us upon a foreign shore. 

From which so many should return no more? 

Can we forget? Are not their children here? 

Do not their widows often weep and mourn? 

Do not we view at times the scalding tear, 

And shall we leave them all alone, forlorn? 

Ah, no! Our tribute may be paid to these, 

Better than monuments the dead ’twould please! 

Call them not dead! Untrue! They live again 
Celestial lives in a much happier state— 
Released—their sacrifice has not been vain, 

And they are near us, nor their watch abate. 
Who helps the children they have left behind 
Shall help to give them perfect peace of mind! 

Shall we forget, as quickly passing years 
Bear down the tide of time so many names, 

And life’s new music fills our listening ears 
With ravishment?—’tis natural, no one blames 
The joys of Peace, but, ah! we ought to spread 
Those joys among the Orphans of the dead. 


OF INSPIRATION. 

Speak not of genius! Tell me not of power, 

Talent or studied working of the brain 
I know that waking in the midnight hour, 

Comes surging to my mind the sweetest strain. 
I know that somehow, whispering when it darkens, 
Love’s spirit plavs upon the Lyre of Life, 

And as the soul for inspiration hearkens 
It comes, all silently with fancy rife. 

And something urging, crowding for expression. 
Bears to my Being music from above. 


44 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


I dare not, cannot meet it with repression, 

For it doth speak and breathe of heavenly Love I 
A message, or a story, or a praising, 

Some lines that shall fit in for any day, 

A harmony in words, and an upraising 
Of soul to God—for help along the way. 

A gift from someone—from the heart that loves me. 
And never, never shall it be denied, 

That music from the spheres is all around me. 
And angels walk along the Path beside! 


THE PASSION FLOWER. 

Climbing, clinging, twining upward, ever grows 
the Passion Flower! 

Decorating, and encircling, many a winsome lady’s 
bower, 

Purple heart, and snow-white petals, curling 
tendrils out you’re throwing, 

And within the hearts of many, Passion Flower, 
you are growing! 

Touched with red, like drops of blood, and emblem 
of the human heart, 

In our lives, oh! Passion Flower, you must ever 
take a part; 

Who that lives can say he has not at some time 
your power felt? 

He that prays has known your influence, as upon 
his knees he knelt! 

Purify, O Lord, our passions; make them pure and 
free from sin, 

May the Hand which all things fashions, touch and 
cleanse our hearts within! 

Strong in feeling, high in purpose, let us ever 
climb towards Thee! 

Clinging, twining, growing, shining, so shall we 
Thy (lowers be! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
TO A MOONBEAM. 


45 


If I could ride a moonbeam fair, and mount to¬ 
wards the sky, 

Think you I’d stay upon this earth? No! nol I’d 
quickly iiy 

And don my dress of gossamer, and with a staff 
in hand 

Go mounting ever heavenwards towards that 
radiant land. 

I’d travel fast, and travel soon, to join the Spirits 
there, 

Who live and move so happily in the translucent 
air; 

And where the gardens are with flowers, immortal, 
I should seek 

To sound each river, plumb the seas, and climb 
each mountain peak. 

Oh! for the life adventurous, which must be wait¬ 
ing there— 

New beauties, and new joys, and happiness be¬ 
yond compare; 

And nothing here would keep us living on the 
earthly plain, 

If riding on a moonbeam bright would take us 
up again. 

So perhaps ’tis just as well those beams are made 
of slender stuff, 

Or else the earth would soon be left with people 
scarce enough 

To do the work—to draw the water, hew the 
wood, and care 

For all the little children, who are needing them 
down there. 


40 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


CHRIST’S SMILE. 

A sea of light—an overwhelming bliss, 

I fall and faint with ecstasy o’ercome. 
Something seraphic, like an Angel’s kiss, 

Something that leaves me helpless, stricken, 
dumb. 

More than I ever dreamed of rapturous joy, 
Hours that fly—yet do not pass at all; 
Sensation lost—knowledge nought can destroy, 
Wonder that I exist, who am so small. 

“What thing has chanced? What is it you have 
known?” 

An inward voice is questioning, “My child, 
Tell me how have you thus illumined grown?” 
All I can answer is, “The Christ has smiled.” 

ON THE GRASS. 

Away up there in the heavenly blue, 

The fairies sure are flying; 

And right down here on the green grass too, 
They see me where I’m lying. 

The wind blows fresh, and the wind blows long, 
And the tiny tree-tops quiver; 

They whisper into my ears a song, 

And the long grasses shiver. 

For the fairies whisper, “The days will come 
When you can’t lie on the grass. 

There’ll be snow and frost, and lack of sun, 

And these things must come to pass I 

There’ll be nights so dark, and days so cold 
You’ll hug the big, warm fire! 

And nestle your head in a downy bed 
When all the flames expire. 

So take your fill of the lawn to-day. 

And laugh and look at the sky! 

The fairies know, and they gaily say, 

“The Summer is passing by.” 


AND OTHER POEMS 


47 


EVENSONG. 

The day is past, and now the evening hour 
Comes on, and bells chime out from the Church 
tower. 

The birds are seeking every one his nest, 

And all of Nature gently sinks to rest. 

Our thoughts would lift themselves, 0! God, to 
Thee— 

Haven of Peace, from Life’s too restless sea. 
Accept our prayers, preserve us from all wrong, 
And grant us happy minds at Evensong. 


THE BLUE-TIT. 

A little Bird came up our way 
To tea this afternoon. 

Perhaps he knew ’twas Christmas Day, 
Or thought it would be soon. 

He found a lovely hanging swing, 

With food stored up in it. 

He lightly balanced each small wing, 
This fairy-like Blue-tit. 

He perched upon the cocoanut 
That swings from our Rose tree, 

And very busily he put 
His beak into that tea. 

We watched him from behind the door, 
And when he’d had enough, 

He chirped, “Thank you! I need no more!” 
And wrinkled up his ruff. 

Then lightly flew, and disappeared 
As quickly as he came. 

If we had wings, you may be sure. 

We’d like to do the same. 


48 THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


ON A BOISTEROUS DAY. 

Hearken to the wind a-blowing, 

Comes it up the lea? 

Boisterous airs around us flowing 
In multiplicity. 

Raindrops scatter—often falling 
From the stone-grey clouds; 

Birds to one another calling 
As they pass in crowds. 

Dead leaves fluttering, and whirling 
Down the narrow street, 

Little sudden gusts of swirling 
Frozen, bitter sleet. 

Dancing shadows where the sunbeams 
All too coldly fall, 

Gone so quickly, almost it seems 
They fell not at all. 

Such is part of Winter’s story, 

Suffer it my friends. 

Every season has its glory, 

Seize it, ere it ends. 

HOLY COMMUNION. 

Glad day and hour, when we go to meet 
Our Saviour at His self-appointed Feast, 

And there, the very humblest and the least 
May cast himself down at the Sacred Feet. 

It is indeed a privilege most sweet, 

Nor one to be neglected thoughtlessly, 

But rather followed after faithfully, 

Being with blessing evermore replete. 

For, when we have laid care and toil aside, 

And set our minds on meditation pure, 

We in the Holy of Holies do abide, 

And learn the truth, which doth for aye endure. 
So come we from the Supper of the Lord, 
Assisted, strengthened by the Holy Word. 


AND OTHER POEMS 
MY SHARE. 


49 


Bless me, O! God, as forth 1 go 
Upon to-day’s endeavour, 

And let me magnify Thy Name 
For ever, and for ever! 

My power is small, and I am weak, 

But, Thou, my Father art; 

And if to do Thy will I seek, 

Thou knowest all my heart. 

Forgive my foolish fancies, Lord, 

And purify my thought. 

Teach me to love Thy Holy Word, 

And do the things I ought. 

Then when night falls, may i rejoice 
That I have done my share 
To help along the Universe, 

And lighten others’ care. 

ONE LITTLE WORD. 

O give me but one little Word 
Before I lay me down! 

One thought in which Thy voice is heard, 
My happiness to crown! 

One little word of comfort send 
To show I’m not alone, 

That Thou, our Comforter, and Friend, 
Dost speak in undertone! 

One little Word! O Father God, 

To end this blessed day, 

We lean upon Thy Staff, and Rod, 

In confidence we pray! 

One little Word! the answer comes! 

A message from above! 

A word to outlast even suns— 

The mighty word of Love! 


50 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


MEEKNESS. 

Lowly and meek— 

Ah! do men seek 
To be called that to-day? 

I greatly fear, 

The worldling’s sneer 
Would drive such thoughts away! 

The larger crowd 
Is mostly proud 
Of what? ’Twere hard to say! 

And yet aloud, 

With knees all bowed 
We might more wisely pray, 

To be holy, 

Meek and lowly, 

Like Christ—our great Example. 

He led the way, 

Behind don’t stay, 

But follow His Example. 


ALL IN A LIFE. 

Dreams! idle dreams, that pass across the brain 
And come again, 

Helping in many ways assuage our pain. 

Thought! happy thought, most often to us brought, 
By deeds inwrought 
Into our lives, when meditation’s sought. 

Ghosts! phantom ghosts, that come to us in hosts 
And fill the posts 

Of those departed friends each lifetime boasts. 

Pain! dreaded pain, that will return again, 

And fling amain 

Sorrow, and suffering o’er our paths like rain. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


51 


Joy! blessed joy, that comes when pain has 
passed— 

Too good to last, 

5et like a Sunbeam o’er our lives is cast! 

Work! holy work, for which we bless our God, 
Helped by His Rod, 

The Saints to do His Bidding all have trod. 

Life! wondrous life is made of all these things, 
And each one brings 

Experience, and helps us grow our wings. 

Love! sacred love, the great mainspring of all, 

We hear its call, 

And in responding, to our knees we fall! 

Prayer! blessed prayer, that fills the moment where 
We cast off care, 

And gather strength within the silence there. 

Death! restful Death, that is not Death at all, 

But just the call 

To glorious Life above, free from Earth’s thrall! 

IN THE DUSK. 

When the dusk comes creeping slowly—ah! how 
slowly, up the land, 

As the shades of night draw nearer, and we, in 
the gloaming, stand; 

Then our thoughts fly upwards, upwards, to our 
Father in the sky, 

And we think our Angel Friends, long vanished, 
surely hover by! 

They are with us in the Spirit, and they watch ns 
every day: , 

They rejoice in all our blessings, and in whisper¬ 
ing voices say— 

“Yes! I love you! T am helping, dearest, you need 
have no fear! 

I am with you—often with you—O! you do not 
know how near!” 


52 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


So we turn our thoughts from sadness, to the work 
we know is here: 

There is much to do with gladness, and the poorer 
ones to cheer! 

When the dusk comes creeping slowly—ah! yes, 
slowly!—o’er the land, 

You will stand beside us, loved ones, and we know 
you understand! 


LINES. 

Give! give! what shall I give? 

All that I can, as long as I live. 

Take! take! what shall I take? 

Nothing that makes another heart break. 

Love! love! what shall I love? 

All that the Father sends from above. 

Die! die! when shall I die? 

Not till God’s angel himself draweth nigh. 


MY BROTHER. 

My Brother came! he was my childhood’s friend. 
Together we enjoyed all things—no end 
Is there to memories that we can bring 
From out the past, and talk of everything. 

I"or him I sacrificed my dearest joys! 

Before him were spread out my fairest toys! 

He was my hero, and my all in all! 

He seemed to be so great, and I so small. 

And still to-day he is my heart’s true friend— 
Sorrows and worries laid before him end 
More quickly than in any other way, 

And many burdens quickly melt away. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


53 


Together we review the child-like past, 
Together speak of joys and hopes that last, 
And in the future—come or good, or ill— 

I know he’ll be my wise, kind brother still! 


TO THE STOKERS OF THE FLEET. 

Who was it stoked our Battleships, 

When guns and fire swept the seas? 

Who stood undaunted ’mid hell-heat, 

And worked like heroes? It was these— 

The Stokers! 

When fastened down beneath the decks 
Like prisoners in a furnace hot, 

They stood, while sweat poured from their brows, 
A fearful duty they shirked not! 

The Stokers! 

Who knew not whether death or life 
Awaited them in the next hour? 

Nor could tell how advanced the strife, 

Nor which side stood with winning power? 

The Stokers! 

Who heard one message from above. 

Shouted in hoarse, and vibrant tones, 

And saw no sky—that thing men love— 

But only knew that blood atones? 

The Stokers! 

“Full steam ahead!”—faster, more fast 
They piled the glowing furnace higher! 

For who could tell if ’twere the last 
Time they should pile that furnace fire? 

The Stokers! 

Who lived or died to duty true, 

And nobly did “their bit” to save, 

And cared not if they only knew 
That Britain still should rule the wave? 

Our Stokers! 


54 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


PETER. 

Now Peter was a little pup 
Of some high pedigree! 

He had a careful bringing up, 

This terrier of degree! 

Spotted with black, and half with white— 
A perfect dear was he! 

His rough-haired coat, and eyes so bright, 
A charming sight to see! 

He came to us one year with friends, 
Travelled by motor-car, 

And brought his basket on beam ends 
From Oxford—’twas not far! 

We welcomed him with happy grace— 

He seemed so young and gay! 

He kissed each lady on the face, 

Then ran away to play. 

And when the dinner kept us all 
Too busy him to watch, 

He trotted round—this doggie small— 

Some bones or scraps to snatch! 

At last a chicken bone was found 
To suit his longing wish! 

He dragged it quickly o’er the ground 
Nor waited for a dish! 

Into his basket by the fire 
Crept Peter with his bone; 

And there he stayed, nor ventured nigher 
Till all of it was gone! 

Then once again in happy glee 
He came and licked our hand! 

0! Peter, your felicity 
We well can understand. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


55 




You’ve had a lovely motor ride 
With a dear mistress fair! 

You watched the master deftly guide 
His car thro’ the keen air! 

And now you've dined on chicken bone, 

Oh! Peter, life is grand! 

Few dogs that 1 have heard of own 
A better home in the land! 

OF HOW THE ANIMALS MAY SPEAK ON 
CHRISTMAS NIGHT. 

Twas said of old on Christmas night, 

That animals may talk! I quite 
Believe this strange thing might be true, 

For those who wrote the Bible knew 
That Balaam’s ass began to speak, 

When he a warning once did seek 
To give unto his master, and 
His rider did not understand 
That a Celestial Being blocked 
His way, and like a fool he mocked! 

So on one Christmas long ago, 

When moon shone bright on falling snow, 

A donkey in the field near by 
Brayed loudly, and then said, “I cry 
To tell you that a robber band 
Is now marauding o’er the land, 

And fowls they’ve stolen from the barn! 

1 speak, 0 Master, just to warn 
You to make fast your stable door, 

Or you will sure lose something more!” 

(He gave a bray, and then stopped still— 
That donkey had done good, not ill!) 

A collie dog ran up the stairs 
To where his mistress said her prayers! 

He gave a bark, and then a whine, 

And spoke, “Oh! listen, lady mine, 
Downstairs is standing in the hall 
A good policeman, strong and tall, 


56 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Who’s come say that he has found 
Hiding within the garden ground 
A burglar, but he’s caught the man 
And safely handcuffed him! Now can 
You hurry down and hear his tale?” 

The collie barked and wagged his tail! 

(Like all good dogs, he sought to warn 
His owner from impending harm!) 

A cock crowed in the stableyard, 

Then spoke aloud! “Well, it is hard! 

My hens have laid some splendid eggs, 

And now a fox with tawny legs, 

Comes sneaking thro’ the stable door, 

And seizes one! Her life is o’er!” 

The stableman chanced to o’erhear 
This piteous lament, and near 
The fox’s hole he laid a trap 
Which caught old Reynard! No mishap 
Thereafter fell on any hen! 

(The cock rejoiced, and said “Amen!” 

My short, short speech on Christmas night 
Has done its work, to my delight!”) 

The cat mewed near the cellar door, 

“Alas! my happy days are o’er! 

The trap they set to catch the mouse 
Down in the basement of the house 
Is broken, and a family 
Of mice are running fast and free 
Around a great big cheese that we 
Had hoped to save for many weeks 
And making holes, and giving squeaks, 

And I can’t ope the cellar door 

To get at them!” Then she gave o’er! 

But one who heard her little speech, 

A helping hand at once did reach, 

And pussy hurried in a trice 
Below to catch those naughty mice! 

(So pussy’s little Christmas speech 
Just put the cheese beyond their reach!) 

“Thank God!” the horse neighed in his stall, 
“That I may speak, just once for all, 

And tell my master that a rat 


AND OTHER POEMS 


57 


Near by is gobbling so hard that 
He’ll soon eat up the pile of oats 
That’s stacked behind our blanket coats! 

I wish that they would set a trap 
Just to prevent further mishap!” 

(0 good old horse, now take a rest. 

We see that you have done your best 
To help your master save his grain! 

You well deserve to speak again!’) 

The Donkey, Horse, Dog, Cock, and Cat 
Our friends in daily life combat, 

For us in some way all the year 
To give us help, or bring us cheer. 

So we’ll thank God and always pray 
That they may speak on Christmas Day! 

COURAGE 

Who is there wishes his life to flow ever 
Calmly, and slowly along? 

Placid, and smiling like any smooth river, 
Singing just one simple song! 

Longs not the heart for adventurous daring, 
Leaps not the soul to the sky? 

Witness the heroes for honour who’re caring,— 
They fear not to live or to die! 

Cleaving the air, with an engine that’s turning, 
Rivalling Birds in the blue; 

Dare-devils comfort and luxury spurning, 

Such are the champions for you. 

England! O! England, your bosom has nourished 
Soldiers, the finest on Earth. 

’Neath their protection you always have flou¬ 
rished,— 

Well you know what is their worth! 

Courage, endurance, and wisdom uniting, 

“Glory to God” be their song! 

Danger above, or beneath they’ll be fighting, 
Guarding their country from wrong! 


58 


THE FARLIAxMENT OF BIRDS 


I HAVE NO DOUBT 

When I awaken in that Paradise 

Which all around, and yet within us lies, 

I have no doubt that I shall ope my eyes 
Upon a welcome, and a glad surprise. 

I have no doubt that lields of melting green 
Will, dressed in flowers of fairest form be seen, 
And every sort of multicoloured sheen, 

Will meet my ravished eyes, and what has been 

Most longed for by my soul while still on Earth. 
Will meet me, and all things most truly worth 
My love, and adoration will be there, 

And I shall breathe a perfect heavenly air. 

i have no doubt that all my dearest ones 
Who passed before me to the golden Suns, 

Will gather round to welcome me that day, 

When I shall go from here with them to stay. 

J have no doubt that perfect joy, and love 
Await me there in heavenly courts above, 
And all I can do, while I’m waiting here, 

Is to help others, and be. of good cheer. 

ON STRIKES 

What use for peace to spread her Heavenly wings, 
With all the joy, and comfort, that she brings, 

If Men here, in their own fair native land 
’Gainst Law and Order, still will raise their hand. 

OF LONELINESS 

I am not lonely in the World, for I 

Can watch the beautiful, and changing sky, 

Can see the Sun rise, hear the soft wind blow, 
Watch waving trees, and see the flowers grow. 
The Birdies sing, or fly, or pass my feet, 

With noises gentle, and with chirpings sweet. 
The Moon shines out, or sinks beneath a cloud. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


59 


In Spring the golden Daffodillies crowd 
The garden walks, and out there hour by hour 
I sit and drink in beauty from each flower. 

I am not lonely, for the poets speak 
To me from printed page, or even seek 
To crowd my memory with precepts clear, 

Great truths, perhaps enshrined in verse, that 
cheer 

And lead to Action, and to kindly words, 

While all around sit friendly, watching Birds. 

Not lonely? No, for God within my soul 
Is whispering, ever seeking to control 
That wayward heart, that knows not always right 
But wanders often through the blackest night. 
And will be crowded sometimes with wrong 
thought, 

Until by prayer, and pleading, it is brought 
Back to remebrance of what things are best, 
And then with satisfaction I am blest, 

So there is little time for loneliness 
On any day, 0 friend, I must confess. 

THE MIGHTY FRIEND 

Ruler of my life, and mighty Friend, 

May I always trust Thy guidance sure. 
Knowing to thy Mercy there’s no end. 

Knowing Thy Love always shall endure. 

Strange the devious ways that I may pass, 

High the snowy mountains I must cross, 

Deep the river, dark the wide morass, 

Yet with Thee I shall not suffer loss. 

Sometimes every travelling pilgrim falters, 
Sometimes thinks with dread of coming years, 
Yet Thy gracious Promise never falters! 

Well, is it to banish all these fears! 

Once again Thou hast uplifted—helped me. 
Mighty Saviour,—never-failing Friend, 

Ever, always dost Thou stoop to save me, 

Guide, and guard me to the very end. 


60 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
THE DAYLIGHT BREAKS 


Slowly, surely, comes the morning, 
Stealing up the lightening sky! 

What shall stop the day's new dawning 
As the night goes flitting by? 

One by one, the Stars receding, 

Disappear into the blue; 

And the Fght comes once more pleading. 
That our labours we renew. 

Slowly dawns the Spirit’s teaching 
Into every human mind. 

All our fondest hopes out-reaching, 
Proving God is ever kind. 

Who shall stop the Sun from shining? 
Who shall keep us in the dark? 

When behind the grey cloud’s lining 
Gleams the radiating spark. 

What shall keep the Spirit’s brightness 
From illuminating life? 

As the Sun floods all with lightness, 

So God splines above the strife! 


THE CURTAIN OF LIFE 

When the curtain of our lives is drawn aside to 
show the Lord, 

0! I wonder shall we blush for very shame 
In thinking of the things that we neglected in 
His Word, 

And the times when we forgot to Praise His 
Name! 

0! I wonder shall we think of many little deeds 
undone? 

Of the sick and poor forgotten sometimes too, 
Were we busy ever seeking for our pleasure in 
the Sun 

When we might have done a work more real 
and true? 


AND OTHER POEMS 


61 


Well! the curtain must be lifted on some day— 
remember this, 

And there’s nothing can for ever be concealed. 
So pray and strive, for Righteousness is very 
certain bliss 

When all our sins and virtues are revealed. 


PEACE IN OUR GARDEN 

Far from the hurly-burly 

Of this world’s unequal strife, 

In a well-hidden garden, 

I lead my placid life. 

There the sweet birds sing and twitter 
From morn till dewy eve; 

The flowers grow daily fairer; 

The trees all bud and leave. 

Our lawn was not converted 
Into a potato patch! 

The paths are lined with benches, 

The gate Is on the latch. 

And I ask the general public 
To come in and share with me 

The joys, which all can feel alike. 

Who have the power to see. 

God’s Love and Tender Kindness 
In Nature there around, 

Health in the perfect atmosphere— 
Food and beauty on the ground. 

There’s no need to read the papers, 

Or think about the Hun, 

Yet we still can work for others 
From morn till set of sun. 

We invite the sick—the children— 

Who are strangers in the Town; 

Some are seeking change from Raiders, 
And have come from London down. 


62 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Then there are some here from Belgium 
And others home on leave— 

But they all are glad of comfort, 

A word of help receive. 

There our little pet lamb carries 
Round her neck a Syrian bell, 

Which tinkles as she moves along 
The lawn that feeds her well. 

She is an emblem to our hearts 
Of The Lamb Who once was slain, 

That man might be from sin released, 

Nor was the Sacrifice vain. 

And here we speak and dream of Christ, 
Whom we hope to see at last— 

When the troubles of this stormy world 
Shall in the end be past. 

So we live daily in our Garden, 

And in it find the Lord; 

We speak of Rest and Healing, 

Quote the Message of His Word. 

With the world we’ll share our Garden, 
Calling it a Place of Peace, 

Where for a time the heart of man 
From sadness finds release! 

THE GRANDDAUGHTER 

So fair, and tall, with eyes of blue, 

She sits and watches me, and you, 

Her smile is sweet; her thoughts from far 
Have come to her! An evening star 
Is not more gentle nor more true 
Than is this one so dear to you— 

The Granddaughter! 

Her lips are red, and fair her hair, 

Clusters and curls, now here, now there, 
Her figure tall is lithe and strong, 

All joys of youth to her belong! 

Ah! Who would not be sweet nineteen, 

If they could also be a queen, 

Like the Granddaughter! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


63 


Music is hers, too, in the Soul, 

Volumes of sound about her roll! 

For Sons of Men, she gladdens hearts, 

And only when she leaves or starts 
Away from those who love her well 
Regret doth make the bosom swell 
For the Granddaughter 

Her praises! tell them not too loud, 

Lest envy start among the crowd, , 

All secret shall this treasure be, 

A joy best known to you and me! 

Who is our cherished and sweet guest? 

Who is it makes us feel so blest? 

The Granddaughter! 

AN INVOCATION 

Come to me Darling, as daylight is leaving! 

Come to me, Darling, before it grows dark! 

All of thy messages sweet I’m receiving, 

Just a small bit of the Great Divine spark! 

Love is so precious, and so all-embracing! 

Speak to me now, and then tell it again: 

Thy Life with mine intertwined, and enlacing, 
Joy in my life! and relief to my pain! 

Gather me often up close to thy bosom, 

Hush me, and still me, when waters are low, 
Tell me when Light the horizon doth crimson, 
Repeat when Diana again strings her bow! 

At Morning and evening, at Sunset or Dawn, 

My ears then are open, my mind listens still. 
Assure me that God never leaves me forlorn! 

The Kingdom is mine, for that is His sweet Will! 

CHRYSANTHEMUMS 

Some love Roses, 

All love Posies, 

But give me Chrysanthemums! 

For sweet clover, 

The fields over, 

Searches the Bee as she hums! 


64 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Some love Lilies, 

Some like Gillies, 

But for me Chrysanthemums 1 
Some sing praises 
Of the Daisies! 

All for me that one words sums! 

Yellow! Red! Chrysanthemums! 

DEWDROPS 

Dewdrops are sparkling upon the grass, 

I see them quivering as I pass. 

The Field is glittering full of light, 

Oh! what could surpass them as a sight! 

Rainbow reflections, and crystal drops. 

Even the Bird in his singing stops, 

Amazed at so much before his eyes, 

He thinks it an earthly Paradise! 

Shimmering, glistening drops of dew. 

Even you may have a work to do 
Refreshing fields, and the sweet, dry grass: 

I think of you and right gladly pass. 

On to my work, for I also do 

Something down here in the world like you, 

A bit to refresh the minds of men 
And help them on with their toil again! 

CROWNS 

“And are there crowns for all of us poor men? 
Tired soldiers, drowned sailors?” And just then 
My eyes caught sight of a most wondrous thing. 
Around Heaven’s door were clustered, in a ring, 
These fallen Heroes in a bloody strife, 

Waiting admission to the fuller life! 

“Yes! O my children,” spoke an Angel grand 
fNot words he said—I seemed to understand 
His meaning as he gave it out quite clear) 

To all the throng waiting his voice to hear, 

"For all of you have so nobly striven. 

Are laid up crowns of shining gold in Heaven! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


05 


“And some are studded with great jewels rare, 
According to the actions you prepare 
To offer for inspection to our Judge. 

Who loves you all and never could begrudge 
To give a crown to anyone who gave 
His life on earth some other life to save! 

“You all will reap whatever you have sown, 

It must be so—the verdict forth has gone; 
Whatever a man soweth he shall reap. 

Shall not our Saviour every promise keep 
He made on earth? Then led to Calvary! 

It is the Path for all Humanity! 

“And His Crown was of thorns, when down below, 
And drops of blood streamed from beneath it! O 
Sorrowful Crown! but those who will it share 
Shall reap also the joys Angels prepare, 

And rest of perfect sort is theirs up Here, 

What greater bliss than by Him to be near, 

“0 Soldiers, Sailors, lift your streaming eyes, 
Behold! glad joy awaits you, a surprise, 

Fit for a Monarch or an Emperor King: 

The Heavens around shall with your praises sing! 
And you shall find celestial crowns are there. 
With which no earthly Honours could compare! 


LANTERNS 

Lanterns in Life! Have you many, friends, 

To carry at dark when daylight ends? 

What is the light for our path at night, 

And what are the thoughts that make it bright? 

“Thy Word is a Lantern to my feet,” 

“Thy statutes” make all the ways seem sweet; 
Wave, then, this Lantern on high! 0 high! 
Proclaim the Word of the Lord is nigh! 

Unto thee, yea,—and He’s in thy heart, 

Where all holy things take up the part 
Of thee which is best,—shew thee to run 
The race with gladness, a grand Lantern. 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


(i(i 

What is the Lantern that lights the sky, 

The Sun by day, then the Moon draws nigh. 
And numbers of little Lanterns come, 
Shimmering stars from behind the Sun! 

Lanterns! O Lanterns! good seamen brave, 
To light you over the darksome wave, 

To guide you along from shore to shore, 

And keep you from straying evermore! 

Lanterns! 0 Lanterns! for soldiers bold, 
Leading through dangers and traps untold. 
Onward we go—wave the Lanterns high— 
We’ll conquer all things under the sky! 

Lanterns once more lead up to a grave! 

To rescue a friend this man he gave 
His life! But, oh, he’ll find it again, 

Redeemed from every mortal pain! 

A Lantern above he will not need, 

For all Light is there—Give heed! Give heed! 
“Thy Word is a Lantern to my feet,” 

We thank Thee, God, for this promise sweet. 

WHEN? 

When Peace has come again to earth, 
When everybody knows the worth 
Of simple, loving ways of life, 

And Providence removes thk^ strife. 
Which now is tearing out men’s hearts, 

O teach us to play noble parts, 

And be consolers unto men 
Who have lost all! That shall be— 
When? 

When we have learned the lesson hard 
Of sacrifice, and can retard 
Our longing for the joys of Life, 

And luxuries, which once were rife 
Before the War came, yes! and when 
We can live simply, like poor men. 

We’ll see a purer life, and then 
We shall do well! When? Yes, 

Ah! When? 


AND OTHER POEMS 

FUZZY 

0! Fuzzy is a terrier’s name; 

Long shall we hold it dear! 

A simple story of the same 
I would narrate you here. 

Dear Fuzzy—little dog was brown; 

And though he oft would roam 
Upon the outskirts of the town 
“The Warren” was his home! 

The soldier lads within that place 
He loved with love so true, 

When each grew well and left, his face 
Quite sad and troubled grew. 

Then his affection he would fix 
Upon another man. 

With little barks, and jumps, and licks 
His daily walks he ran. 

He loved and loved—his heart grew wide. 
To all he was most dear. 

Oh! what to Fuzzy will betide? 

“The Warren’s” closed this year! 

He follows the procession down 
Our sloping long Parade, 

Right thro’ the centre of the town 
March soldiers,—those who aid,— 

The Commandant, the Nurses all, 

And Fuzzy on behind, 

Right past our splendid red Town Hall. 
Sad thoughts dwell in each mind! 

For they are on departure bent, 

These soldiers brave and true; 

They seek the station—home they’re sent, 
Restored—as good as new! 

Rut Fuzzy does not know all this; 

He does not understand 
Why they are marching in such bliss, 
Preceded by a Rand! 


(37 


68 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The station’s reached; the train appears; 

Good-byes must now be said! 

With many handshakes and with tears 
Each brave man bares his head. 

They clamber in!—the train puffs out! 

What is that on the line? 

The Commandant gives a wild shout. 

The Nurses all combine! 

For there is Fuzzy—flying fast 
To catch the train, which takes 
Those soldiers he loves to the last! 

No calls reach him who makes 

Along the rails; his heart is torn 
To see his dear friends go. 

And shall he stay behind forlorn? 

But ah! bis pace grows slow. 

He must return, the train has passed 
Beyond, out of his sight, 

The commandant grasps him at last! 
He’s in a sorry plight! 

Dear Fuzzy, your good, faithful heart 
Example is to all— 

You’ve loved, and lost, the better part— 
Tho’ but a doggie small! 

And now, my readers, all his friends 
Who loved him well and true. 

Brown Fuzzzy, of “The Warren,” sends 
His kind regards to you! 


DAWN 

Golden glory fills the skies, 

Heralding a new Sunrise; 

Clouds of every shape and hue 
Have gathered to meet and renew 
Acquaintance with their Friend the Sun, 
For a new day has begun! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


69 


Blue celestial spreads behind, 

And a little whisp’ring wind 
Is telling to the world the tale, 

Which, somehow, never does grow stale, 
That, once again, a day is ours 
To fill with work and gladsome hours 1 

SUMMER SONGS AMONG THE BIRDS 
(To Elise Emmons). 

(Originally written by Lilian Whiting as an In¬ 
troduction to Elise Emmons’ book entitled ’’Sum¬ 
mer Songs Among the Birds”) 

“Summer songs among the birds!” 

Thus to me, the witching words 
Fell like radiance of the dawning 
In the gladness of the morning! 

Melody and joy and beauty— 

Words that help one on to duty— 

Intimations of one angel, 

(Need I name?) our sweet evangel,— 

She who turned to realms more dear. 

With the opening of the year— 

She to whom our hearts apply, 

These dear lines of poet-lore, 

Since she passed the mystic door— 

*“For half we deemed she needed not 
The changing of her sphere, 

To give to heaven a Shining One 
Who walked an angel here.” 

Though the Poet never knew her, 

In these lines, indeed, he drew her,— 

Pictured all her lovely being 
By the poet’s insight seeing. 

“Summer songs among the birds!” 

Echoing the witching words, 

I discern the “Spirit-friends” 

Who encircle you, my dearest, 

Guiding on to nobler ends,— 

Blest companionship the nearest; 

And with you I catch the vision 
Of Celestial heights Elysian; 

Enter, love, with you in prayer, 

Climb, with you, the Golden Stair! 


70 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


“Summer songs among the birds!” 

Many lessons from these words,— 

From your happy lyric phrases 
Do I find, among the mazes, 

Of the rich and rare suggestion, 

Precious faith, and hope, and question. 

Ah, the purple hills of Rome, 

And our sunset lingering walks, love, 

When we watched St. Peter’s dome 
From our Pincian heights and talks, love,— 
Our enchanted Italy, 

Once again, I seem to see; 

All her music in your words,— 

“Summer songs among the birds!” 

LILIAN WHITING. 

MY WHITE ROSE TREE 

0! the little white Rose-tree that stands by my 
door, 

Bears a burden of Roses, all white and so pure; 
They are not very large, for a Rambler ’tis called, 
But the shape is most lovely, and all are en¬ 
thralled 

Who behold it, and say, “Why, it looks very gay!” 
And is just what a Bride carries in her Bouquet!’ 

It is trained on a circlet of wire quite strong, 
The branches are slender, and yet they are long 
Enough to go round all the rim of the thing, 

As the Bride’s finger carries a little gold ring! 
And I laugh when I see it, with glee, and I say, 
“Why it greatly resembles a Bridal Bouquet!” 

THE UMBRELLA TREE 

If a wonder you would see. 

Come ’neath our Umbrella Tree! 

It is shaped in perfect wise. 

Every branch together lies! 

You can hardly see between 
All the twigs and leaflets green: 

Hardly see the sky above, 


AND OTHER POEMS 


71 


Where the happy Birdies rove; 

Hardly see a ray of light. 

Branches .are twined in so tight. 

Its a wonder, 

When you’re under 
Our little Umbrella Tree! 

THE POTATO 

Sweet .is the bread of the day, to the man made 
hungry by toil, 

Sweet is the evening meal to the weary sons of the 
soil, 

Eaten in glad content by the light of the smould¬ 
ering fire, 

Children and wife on one side, at the other end 
their Sire. 

Sweet are the thoughts of evening now that the 
work is done, 

It was hard to get up so early by the light of the 
rising sun; 

But soon the limbs of the workers will lie in a 
peaceful sleep, 

And all the noise of Jhe cottage will be hushed in 
silence deep. 

The potato forms the staple food of their humble 
diet, 

It was dug with great rejoicing from the earth 
where its lain so quiet; 

Home in a little wheelbarrow the laughing child¬ 
ren brought them. 

Into some sort of a pig the willing mother wrought 
them! 

Oh! its a splendid thing this potato out of the 
ground, 

If there’s lack of anything, there’s enough of that 
to go round; 

So pass your plates again, children, eat it for ail 
you’re worth. 

It will give you force and vigour, the strength of 
your mother earth. 


72 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The birds in the branches will sing whim vou 
wake in the morning again, 

The stars will extinguish their twinkles, is father 
goes back to the plain; 

He’ll work with his plough and his horses, im¬ 
proving the crops for you, 

So that when the harvest is gathered in. there’R 
be something fine and new. 

To stack in the storehouse for winter, to keep us 
warm from the cold, 

And we'll cut a large stock for the wood pile, of 
faggots well dried and old; 

We’ll pile the splendid potatoes in sacks on the 
cellar floor, 

And we’ll keep them there till they’re needed, a 
very precious store. 

Sir Walter Raleigh brought it—the potato—back 
from Spain, 

He found it there in his travels when he sailed the 
Spanish Main; 

And now perhaps he’s rejoicing, if he sees the 
straits we’re in. 

That he brought back the homely potato, rather 
than gold or tin! 

So we’ll plant it, and hoe it. and eat it. and cook 
it in every way, 

We’ll see that our children have it to feed on 
every day, 

And we’ll thank the useful Potato for the good its 
done thus far, 

And perhaps it’s true that this humble friend is 
helping to win the War! 

THE COPPER BEECH 

The Copper Beech! 

I’m short of speech 
To tell its grace and beauty— 

The leaves all red 
And brown are spread. 

To praise it is a duty! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


73 


It stands alone, 

Nor stick nor stone 

It needs to keep it upright! 

Like man of worth, 

Upon the earth, 

Endowed with strength and foresight! 

So may we all, 

Learn not to fall. 

When we are left alone! 

But from this tree. 

Learn how to be 

Strong as a tower of stone! 


THOUGHT IS LIKE A BIRD 

Each flying bird is like a winged thought, 

That leaves its nest so wonderfully wrought. 
To carry to the world—oft drowned in pain, 
The message of God’s tender love again. 

The wings are spread, the beak is Dointed high. 
The objective may be earth, or mav he skv 
Between these Elements a Bird can go, 

And sail aloft, or gently sink below. 

But when a Danger comes, ah! then take care! 
You need, my little Friend, to rise in air! 

For safety, that way—better can be found, 

To escape those evils that lurk on our ground. 

So is it, with the thought, and with the mind! 

If any cruel agent, or unkind, 

Seems plotting ’gainst our happiness most fair. 
Rise, like a Bird, and lift ydiir thoughts in 
Prayer! 

Prayer! like an angel, has two brilliant wings. 
Prayer! like a Bird, can soar, and soaring 
sings! 

One wing is true desire for Righteousness. 

And both, our thanks and joyful praise express! 


74 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
OUR FRIENDS THE TREES 


Oh! the Trees! the Trees! there are plenty of Trees. 
They wave in the Wind, and they shake in the 
Breeze! 

Their boughs are all laden and crowded with 
leaves, 

The cornfields about them are covered with 
sheaves! 


The glad, sunny Autumn, has found us again 
Still struggling with Life here, and fighting amain; 
Just now we are planning our homes to defend, 
From assaults of cold Frost, and draughts without 
end! 

And who that wall help us as well as the trees? 
They’ll give us their wood, yes! as much as we 
please; 

They’ll laughingly say, “It don’t matter at all, 
For in a short time w r e can grow again tall!” 

“So take of my branches as much as you like! 
We’ve no ‘Labor Union,’ we are not ‘on strike!’ 
We do not begrudge! We never stop giving! 

We mean to help mankind on wdth their living.” 

Not dying—no! no! cut the dead wood away, 
Burn it in the fires, and on some cold day. 

Say as you sit toasting your toes and your knefcs, 
“Tis a gift from those best friends of ours, the 
Trees!” 


SLEEP 

Sleep is the greatest boon God gives to Man. 

For wdien he’s wrapt around by it he can 
Just for a time his troubles all forget 
And dream he’s passed along to Heaven, and yet 
The Morn comes peeping to his room again, 

He must resume his garb of flesh and strain 

Each power he possesses to fulfill 

The work God gives him! such a precious Will, 

It is, that knows what each child really needs, 


AND OTHER POEMS 


75 


And daily with adventures new He feeds 
The human Soul that starts out on its quest, 
Determined keenly to pursue the Best! 

Then Night will fall again to every man, 

He’ll pause and rest, after the race he ran, 

And yielding up his thoughts for God to keep, 
He’ll sink into that blessed state called sleep! 

Some say that sleep too much resembles Death, 
And when we come to draw our latest breath, 
And faithful friends around the bed are weeping, 
We look as if we still were only sleeping! 

DUTY 

What do I value most, of all the things 
That God has given in His wondrous world? 
Most pleasures—even Health—may fly on wings, 
But Duty stands beside her Flag unfurled. 

My Duty is a thing no man can steal! 

She is a friend that stays with me alway; 

She comforts, soothes, and even helps reveal 
The splendour and the straightness of the way 

Which I must tread, tho’ thorny be the Path! 

It is not ever so! When sunlight falls 
It makes the Way so dazzling, and so light 
I hasten to give thanks, before Death calls. 

And leads me up to Duties higher still, 

Where I, perchance, shall with the Angels stand. 

1 find that what I took on earth for ill. 

Was Good—to link me to the Brighter Land! 

TRUST 

Trust is a splendid thing! 

It is the Angel’s wing 
Which lifts us from the mire of Despair! 

We clench our hands and cry, 

If it’s my Destiny, 

I accept it, God ordains, 

I can bear!” 


76 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Cometh life or death today! 

Is it joy, or sorrow say, 

Are you trusting all will be for the best? 

Is your heart so strong and true, 

That you’ll let God judge for you, 

And believe that He’ll grant your 
Soul’s request? 

If you’re tired, ill or weary, 

If you’re not so very cheery, 

And you don’t know just what is best to do. 
Oh! remember then these lines, 

For no trusting one repines, 

And you’ll lind all will come* out 
Right for you! 


NIGHT-TIME 

In the darkness, and the silence, and the stillness 
of the night, 

When the moon and stars are shining, and we need 
no other light, 

Then the wind gets up and whistles thro’ the 
branches to the trees, 

And we know they’re talking secrets, tho’ men say, 
“ ’tis but a breeze.” 

The remains of such a sunset are now glowing in 
the sky, 

Streaks of dark blue clouds with yellow, every line 
a mystery; 

For who makes those lines up there, ever chang¬ 
ing, ever new, 

Who but our beloved Creator, always planning 
joy for you. 

Every day an unsought blessing, every day a mes¬ 
sage kind, 

Coming thro’ some fellow being, coming thro’ the 
sun or wind, 

Something pleasant from our fellows, something 
lovely in the world, 

Keeps our minds in constant gladness, keeps our 
lips in laughter curled. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


77 


So we pass away the week-days till the Sabbath 
draweth nigh, 

And we say, “Why this is curious! Here’s another 
week gone by!” 

So the months are swiftly rolling, and the year 
will soon be gone! 

And the darling-downy birdies, will be leaving our 
old home! 


A SUMMER MORNING 

The Moths, the Bats, and the Birdies at live, 

Are flying about, and 0! so alive! 

The light has been creeping out of the West: 

Of all in the year, the summertime’s best. 

The dew on the grass, the mist on the hill. 

The cock sounds his trumpet, lusty and shrill,— 

A train in the distance is puffing away 

For those who must travel, at home let me stay! 

Now ail the big world will soon be awake, 

Each mortal is thinking what part he can take 
To help on his fellows, and do his small share 
To lighten the sorrows and lessen the care 

Of this big Universe, in which he’s been placed, 
To meet all the obstacles with which he’s faced— 
For even in Summer he knows he must eat, 

So put on some clothes, and get shoes on your feet. 

And hurry downstairs to unfasten the door, 

The post-girl is coming with parcels galore: 

And letters containing all sorts of good news 
There’s naught to depress, or to give you the blues! 

The Germans in France are retreating again! 

The Allies are winning—and surely that’s plain! 
So let us be thankful, and gratefully say, 

I’m glad I’m alive on this bright August day! 


8 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
THE CANON’S PIGEONS 


Five lovely Pigeons the Canon had! 

And every day they made him glad! 

One black and white, four white and brown, 
They circled about—or up and down. 

They lived in a little house, quite neat, 

Perched rather high, o’er a garden seat, 

And rooms for just five this lodging had, 

The accommodation was not bad! 

One day these Pigeons disappeared, 

That they were lost was greatly feared, 

The Canon gave a dismal groan, 

And said “He hoped they wonld come home.” 

For thirteen years they had been his friends, 
So what for their loss could make amends? 

The Gardener who fed them every day, 

Was amazed they should have flown away! 

Now the Canon’s Daughter went each day. 

To a little town not far away, 

Where a hospital for soldiers stood. 

There to wait on them, for she is good! 

These Pigeons decided they would like 
To see where she went on her shinina bike. 

So they followed her to Warwick Town, 

And saw the place, ere they all flew down. 

Back to their home on the Kenilworth Road, 
When the Canon saw them he said “Thank God 
My Pigeons are safe in their home again!” 

He chuckled and laughed, and he said “Amen! 

The will of God is always good!” 

But I do not feel sure he understood 
Just what the Pigeons had been to see, 

So we’ll keep it a secret ’twixt you and me! 


AND OTHER POEMS 

OUR DESIRE IS TO PLEASE HIM 


79 


All my joys and all my sorrows 
At His precious feet I cast, 

Knowing “His” are the tomorrows, 
What He blesses, that will last l 

Nothing else has any value. 

Nothing else can we call good. 

But the things that He approves of 
In our hearts are understood! 

Daily do we work to please Him, 
Daily hope His Will to do. 

It’s not always easy knowing, 

What’s the right thing and the true! 

Yet we trust that He will guide us, 
For His promises are “Yea”; 

We feel sure He’ll walk beside us, 
Helping, leading on the way! 

So with joy we rise and gather 
All our forces for the day, 

That we certainly may please Him, 
Is the end for which we pray! 


TRAVELLING ALONG 

“I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!” 

This I believe, and know that He will take me 
One day to be with Him, in Heaven above, 
Where all is light, and all is perfect love. 

Why, then, repine my soul, if time seems long. 
The battle is not always to the strong! 

“My strength in weakness can quite perfect be. 
And should I fainting fall, He’ll come to me.” 

He’ll come and see that I am helped along, 
He’ll send an anvel from his glorious throng, 
Lest I should dash my foot against a stone, 

Or wandering, miss the way that leads to Home. 


80 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


So I will rise, and don my dress of clay, 

And travel gaily thro’ another day; 

Believing that a kind word and a smile, 

Can lighten loads and help on many a mile I 

IN HIM I TRUST 

Who, that has lost his health upon the way 
Of life, can rest, and trust, and calmly say 
God is my strength, my glory, and my health. 
Has found, indeed, a mine of golden wealth. 

Not only will his body stronger grow, 

But, Mental Poise, in time will surely show 
Him how to wisely seek, and find again, 

The Treasure that was his before the pain! 

The seat of all sensation is the mind, 

Our wondrously constructed human kind 
Has yet to learn that he who conquers Will, 

May dominate himself and conquer ill! 

’Twas never meant that man should grovel here, 
A prey to every wretched kind of fear, 

But rather God would have us rise and prove. 
All things are possible to those who love! 

SUNDAY 

I love a Sunday morning, it always comes to me 
With a power and a freshness, a sweet serenity! 
There’s a feeling in your bosom that you mean to 
do your best, 

To make God’s Holy Sabbath day a time of lovely 
rest! 

The weather’s most important, and of course we 
look to see 

If rain, or sun, if wind, or showers, have come 
with us to be. 

But we know there’s always something very bles¬ 
sed can be done 

In the house on rainy days, or outdoors in the sun. 


AND OTHER POEMS 81 

There’s generally some old friend coming in to 
dine, 

There’s talk of progress in the war, of costly 
foods and wine; 

Mayhap another young friend will come along to 
tea, 

How little sugar she will take, is what we want 
to see! 

Then there’s the letter must be sent before you go 
to sleep, 

The little walk across the fields among the cows 
and sheep! 

The Hour for Prayer, perhaps you feel you’d 
rather go to Church, 

Or else in silence, in your room, your conscience 
you will search! 

To each one Sunday’s different, but we all can 
make it fine. 

By studying out the Laws of Life to learn we 
are divine; 

For Sons of God, the Apostle John has said we 
surely are, 

And we must live accordingly—tho’ helping on the 
War! 

For Peace has got to come some day, and the 
sooner that can be, 

The better for us all now here, and for Eternity; 

So, Sundays let us lift our thoughts and pray for 
guidance here, 

And trust that Peace on Earth, goodwill to man, 
are drawing near! 

SYMBOLS 

A picture of the Christ! 

It seems a little thing. 

And yet what comfort to the Soul, 

This littlje thing may bring! 

It represents so much, 

Jesus—the Son of God; 

Our Saviour—and our best of Friends, 

Our Staff—our saving Rod! 


82 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Two little bits of wood, 

Just made into a cross; 

Form yet a symbol of the thing 
That saves the world from loss! 

WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS 

I voice the cry of the People, I 

Who have watched them live, and seen them die. 

My heart goes cut to them every day. 

As they travel along the weary way. 

I have seen the women, pale with want; 

I have seen the men, both tall and gaunt; 

I have watched the children, they, ’tis true. 

Bear the brightest faces of all, they do! 

And I know rich friends that what they need 
Is more of kindness in word—and deed! 

Not gifts too costly—or things too rare, 

But your loving thought and smile to share! 

It is not much—so let us all give 
That daily love, as long as we live, 

We’ll find it prove the perfect leaven, 

With which this earth can rise to Heaven! 

NIGHT 

O! the Night is so beautiful, who does not love 
the night, 

She cometh up in great splendour, with Moon and 
Stars, a sight 

For tired mortals to behold, at close of weary day, 
And oftentimes a yellow light attends her on the 
way! 


Her robe is tinged with emerald green, and dazzl¬ 
ing dew-drop fringe. 

While o’er her dark blue mantle some pale shades 
of grey impinge! 

Faint lights still linger on the edge of what will 
shortly be 

The Inst of this now passing day, but to Eternity, 


AND OTHER POEMS 


83 


We nearer are, by some twelve hours, than when 
we woke at Dawn, 

We knew not what the day would hold this very 
special morn, 

But still we greeted it with joy, a held for pleasing 
Thee, 

And now to-night, we’ll lay us down, and ask on 
bended knee 

That Thou wilt keep us thro’ the night, and all our 
loved ones too; 

And help us rise with strength, the morn, to travel 
on anew! 


MY FRIEND’S FLOWERS. 

(A Letter in Rhyme.) 

Of red Carnations in a row, 

Saw I never such a show— 

And just along the border they are met 
By their sister flowers fair, 

Growing delicate and rare, 

Just a pale sort of pansy violet. 

i 

Near the door the Roses hang, 

And their heavy heads they bang 
When the shower comes up a little strong. 

Oh! so graceful and so sweet, 

You would very seldom meet 

Anything more lovely! may they hang there long! 

My friend is so very kind, 

She has such a generous mind, 

She’s always giving„flowers to her friends. 

If she’s not a little careful, 

Presently she will be tearful, 

Saying, “All my giving now must have an end! 

“For I’ve given all away, 

Not only flowers to-day. 

But money—food—and clothing to the war; 

I shall stop a little while 
Till again my fortunes smile, 

And then I’ll keep on giving more and more.” 


84 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Oh! my dear Mrs. Newbould, 

Here truly it must be told, 

That every one who knows you, loves you much! 
Accept this rhyming letter, 

I wish ’twere written better, 

But I know you’ll forgive it being such, 

As any youthful friend 
Might to her Senior send, 

Craving just your indulgence and your pardon! 
You found me sitting there, 

(If any one asks where?) 

Twas the lovely, shady spot you call your Garden! 


BIRDS AT EVENING 

Birds are chirping up there, 

And all the evening air 
Is filled with their sweet little noises! 
There’s just one by himself, 

Such a dear little Elf, 

On top of a fir-tree he poises. 

His two frail little claws, 

And then after a pause, 

He begins forth to carol a song! 

We listen enchanted, 

Is this garden haunted? 

Oh, no! believe me—nothing’s wrong! 

It’s all in the nature 
Of the loving creature, 

To sing loudly his prayers out at night. 

He’s thanking His Maker, 

Who’s blessed every acre, 

You may trust me, he’s generally right! 

So we’ll say “good-night” too, 

And a grateful “thank-you” 

To our Father—Who’s helped us this day— 
And to-morrow we pray 
May be just like to-day. 

All full of His kindness in the usual way! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


85 


TO A SCOTCH NURSE 

She’s a bonnie Scotch Lassie, come down from the 
North! 

The South will receive her, and welcome her 
worth! 

All help that is coming to soldiers and sick, 

Is precious indeed, for the wounded lie thick. 

As buds on a tree that is shaken by storm! 

As stones on a beach that is trampled and worn! 
So our heroes are falling, and their’s is the cry— 
4 ‘0h! help me, kind Nurse, and give aid ere I die.” 

Fair land of the North, where the heathery hills 
Are a fine panacea for bodily ills; 

We thank you for all that you mean to the world, 
Your flag by the side of old England’s unfurled! 

So, “Scotland forever!” Let this be our cry! 

She’s furnished us heroes who knew how to die! 
And now she is willing, her Nurses to give, 
Who’ll succour the wounded, and help them to live! 


TWO STARS 

“Two ’tars!” a Baby said, 

And laid his little head 
Upon my bosom, as he gazed outside! 

A street lamp lit too soon, 

And a new rising Moon, 

But Baby called them both “Two ’tars!” and cried. 

When I said, “No, my dear, 

It’s really very clear, 

One is an Earthly—one a Heavenly Light!” 

He pointed with his hand. 

He grasped me, and did stand, 

Just gazing up with joy into the Night! 


86 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


On his ten tiny toes, 

And the Lord only knows 
How sweet and precious is that child you see! 
“Two ’tars!” in his small world, 

Two weeny fists, tight curled, 

His dancing blue eyes are “Two ’tarsi” to me. 


RAIN DROPS 

There’s music in the Rain! 

I hear it on the pane! 

Falling! Falling! 

Calling! Calling! 

Oh! little drops of Rain! 

It says, “I bring you health!” 

It says, “I bring you wealth!” 
Growing! Growing! 

Good bestowing! 

All best things grow by stealth! 

Your Duty, tiny rain, 

To freshen us again. 

Sliding! Sliding 
Gliding! Gliding! 

Straight down the crystal pane! 

The Grain within the Earth! 
Needs Rain to give it birth! 
Shaking! Shaking! 

Sunlight taking! 

With Rain prevents a dearth! 

Their Fountain knows no Girth! 
Rain drops with laughing Mirth! 
Dripping! Dripping! 

Slipping! Slipping! 

Softiy coming back to Earth! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


87 


AN EPISODE IN THE GREAT WAR 

An Army of Americans 

Who’re serving now in France. 

Said “We must have a battle-cry, 

When ordered to advance. 

Some word, that we can shout aloud, 
’Twill greatly cheer our men, 

And help to hearten up our crowd, 

When fighting starts again. 

“So let us think of something 
That reminds us to be brave. 

What of the ‘Lusitania,’ 

Now sunk beneath the wave? 

’Twas she that helped our President 
On his course to decide, 

Said he. That glorious ship, all full. 

Has sunk beneath the tide! 

“We must avenge her! Show the Hun 
That such things cannot be! 

They shall not, without retaliation, 

Sink ships below the sea. 

Now what better Battle-cry than this, 
Can we choose in the war, 

Shout boldly ‘Lusitania!’ 

Echo it near and far!” 

The soldiers cheered—it pleased them well 
They took the word to heart, 

And when the order given was 
For them to make a start. 

Waving the standard, Stars and Stripes, 
They’d brought from oversea, 

Into the thickest of the fight. 

They dashed most gallantly. 

Over the top they rushed and cried, 
Before the astonished Hun, 

“Remember the Lusitania!” 

The Germans turned to run— 
“Lusitania!” “Lusitania!” 

The cry meant Victory, 

They swept the trenches end from end; 
The Hun! Oh! where was he? 


88 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


HOW SOME AMERICAN SAILORS PASSED 
INTO GLORY 

“Where do we go from here, Boys? Oh I where do 
we go from here?” * 

Such were the wonderful words they uttered, with¬ 
out a tear, 

When the moment came for those splendid lads, 
to face a watery grave, 

And they knew that nothing earthly was at hand 
just there to save! 

Nothing afeared of the next step higher, they 
stood on the sinking deck, 

All around on the briny wave were bits of the 
lloating wreck. 

All above in the glorious sky, was the sign of the 
Father’s eye, 

They knew He was watching with tender love, 
and would never let them die! 

Only a little courage—and they would pass thro’ 
the watery door 

To a higher life than any of them had ever known 
before! 

“Mors Janua Vitae” is a motto all know well! 

That Death is the Gate of Life is true, 

As many a soul will tell, 

And these sailor men—with a perfect trust 

Sent forth that ringing cheer 

‘‘Oh! where do we go from here, Boys? where do 
we go from here? 


THE SOLDIER LAD’S RETURN 

She heard him coming down the street, 
Her mother’s heart sprang forth to meet 
Her boy, returning from the War! 

It was the early hour of four, 

What matter that!—the love of mother 
Is keen at one time as another! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


89 


I know it is my lad,” she cried, 

“I’ve often thought I should have died, 
I’ve been so very ill, since he 
Went off to light the enemy! 

He’s been in Flanders and in France, 

In many a terrible advance! 

“How oft at night, I've laid awake 
And prayed to God, for Jesu’s sake. 

To keep him safe, and bring him home 
Once more to those he calls his own! 
Now he comes whistling down the street 
But, oh, my God, the sound is sweet." 

Ilis father Hew to ope the door, 

It was the early hour of four, 

And you may guess that no more sleep 
Came to those three—they rather weep 
With joy, and talk in bated breath 
Of his hair-breadth escapes from death! 

Of how he saw the enemy, 

And how in hospital he lay. 

Feverish and sick for many a day, 

And when at last they let him out, 

The Huns and “Goths" had suffered rout, 
And at the end his leave was given, 

To come to "Blighty,”—call it “Heaven!" 

It’s Heaven to be with those you love! 

It’s Heaven to feel their tender love, 

The Mother’s joy, the father’s pride, 

To have their son back at their side. 

That many a home, we’ll beg and pray 
May have this self-same boon to-day. 

THE GOLDEN LADDER 
To M. I. E. 

I sat low down, before me rose a stair 
To heights Celestial far above—and there 
High on the topmost step a Lady stood, 

I could see plainly she was great and good! 

Yes! and an Angel! with a halo bright. 
Such as might dazzle any mortal sight, 
Radiant with love, upon a rosy cloud, 

And while I gazed in joy, she spoke aloud! 


90 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Ah! and her voice came chiming down the stair 
As when a shooting star falls thro’ the air, 
And her glad accents seemed to me quite plain, 
“Arise!” she said, “ and comfort men again!” 

“There is no end to work for God on earth! 

All that is noblest starts here and has birth 
With us in Heaven, then descends below 
And this my child, is what I want to show 

“To you this night! while all men lie asleep 
Rise quietly! with me a Vigil keep! 

Hark to my voice and catch a melody 
Which is intended for Humanity. 

“Know there are hundreds of sad hearts and 
low, 

Living beside you, just like flowers that grow 
Thick-set as daisies in a pasture grass, 

With upturned faces, longing as you pass, 

“For some sweet music to refresh their hearts. 
And I will give it to you soon in parts, 
Something all Golden—full of life and love, 
Such as we angels, sing up here above!” 

Thrilled and enraptured by this Heavenly 
voice 

I gazed up eagerly—and did rejoice 
To catch within my very inmost soul 
Some of the music that in heights doth roll. 

“Give me, oh! Angel Friend,” I cried, “a share 
Of Power to express what you have utterea 
there, 

Teach me to help the World as you did herei 
Show me to fill all saddened hearts with 
cheer!” 

And then adown the Golden Ladder stair 
Came there an answer to my humble prayer. 
“Yes, darling child! to you it shall be given 
To transmit for your Brothers songs from 
Heaven! 



AND OTHER POEMS 


91 


‘‘And I will help you, often come again, 
leach you to strengthen others in their pain; 
All joyous shall the lovely music be, 

Which we together shall give Humanity!” 

Happy and thankful. I went back to my rest, 
Just for an hour I felt that I’d been blest. 
Wandered with angels up the Golden Stair, 
And then I fell again to Earth in Prayer! 

SPIRIT-FRIENDS 

Encircled am I now' by Spirit-Friends, 

And not alone, as to the World might seem! 
They influence me towards the highest ends, 

And I accept the Light! It is no Dream! 

I cannot see them, but I feel them near, 

Great comfort from their Presence I receive, 
What! tho’ the scoffer or the Worldling sneer, 
“How blessed are they who see not, yet believe!” 

They come about me often thro’ the day, 

It makes an atmosphere of Hope and Joy, 

It makes me wish all others far away. 

It gives a sense of Peace without alloy! 

Now thank I God for this most precious Gift, 

I’ll treasure it and hide it well away, 

Lest others, ignorant, travelling the same road, 
Should deem it an untruth and laughing, say 

“Why how can spirits visit us below? 

They have gone on to grander Worlds than this! 
They heed no more, our sorrow's and our woe! 
They are enraptured with their own new bliss! 

But I assert, and venture to declare 
They do not find it easy to forget, 

They see us from their new' abode in air, 

They long to speak—commune with us, and yet 

We shut our mental eyes and cry, “They’re gone. 

Ah! those are dead, they’ve left us for elsewhere. 
We weep, lament, and think we are alone! 

Are not the ministering spirits everywhere? 


92 THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 

Our Saviour came again, to those He loved, 
“Behold, I go before to Galilee”— 

“I will be with you!” He has always proved 
The truth of what He said! ’Tis writ that we 


Should follow on—and do the things He did. 

Not backward slide, and crawl along below. 
But raise our thoughts and aspirations high, 
“The works that 1 do, ye shall do also!” 

If thro’ this mighty War that racks the world. 
We higher views, and fresh salvation gain, 

The gallant soldiers who for us have died 
Will know their sacrifice has not been vain! .. 


If we can see they have not died at all, 

But only put their spiritual bodies on, 

We who still dwell here in the natural world, 
Shall reap a joy beyond comparison. 

If they who see us from their higher Life, 

Can raise and rescue us from sheer despair, 

By inspiration, with their presence rife, 

We soon shall feel that they are here! not therel 


The Holy Book which carries highest truth, 
Teaches that Death is to be overcome! 

If Life be not renewed, how can that be? 

When mortal Souls have left their earthly home! 


And if we do not know and feel them near, 

It would not satisfy us very long, 

But oh! ye mourners, cast aside each fear,. 
And open out your glad hearts to a Song! 

And say, my loved one true has passed away, 
“She is not dead!” There is no Death at all! 
There’s but transition to the Brighter Day! 
And what is true for one, is true for all! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
VICTORY 


( J3 


We trust in Thee, our wondrous God. 

Who doeth all things well; 

We often read Thy Holy Word, 

Of marvels it doth tell! 

We travel on from day to day, 

Each night we seek for rest, 

We feel that we must thankful be, 

For we are more than blest! 

And every trial that appears, 

Is for our greater gain, 

In righteousness, and peace, no fears 
Need we show before pain! 

The courage of our heroes who 
Are fighting now in France, 

Fills us with wish to conquer too, 

And daily to advance; 

If we can ctnquer self at home, 

And perfect learn to be, 

Then we shall surely win that way 
The greater Victory! 

THE NEW YEAR 

The New Year is coming along, along! 

We’ll greet it this year with a song, a song! 

For the war is over! sing Peace, sing Peace! 

The burden is lifted, Release! Release! 

We struggled and fought for those years, those 
years! 

We gave of our best with tears, with tears! 

Let us rest now awhile, with joy! with joy! 

Let us comfort the soldier boy! the Boy! 

Who has fought so bravely to save England! 

He deserves right well of this land! this land! 


04 


THE PARLIAMENT QF BIRDS 


Then wish him a Happy and Bright New Year I 
And give him a right hearty cheer, a cheer! 

And join we together in bands; in bands! 

Shake hands with us, Soldiers, shake hands, shake 
hands! 


BIRDS IN AUTUMN 

What think the birds of this damp, cold weather? 
I quite imagine they’re wond’ring whether 
The moisture will invade each well-built nest, 
Wherein at night their custom is to rest. 

I rather think they dread the coming cold, 
Now that the year is really growing old, 

They look about for berries on the trees, 

A winter store, when other things shall freeze! 

Oh, don’t forget your faithful friend the Bird, 

All summer long his lovely song you heard! 

And now that happy time is past and gone, 

He still will cheer you in your winter home. 

So place a plate for him upon the sill 
Load it with good things he likes, and be still, 
Watching his joy fnd happiness! He’s found 
Again food waiting him upon the ground! 

Our Father feeds us, too—from day to day. 

He knows our wants, our needs before we say 
A thing about them, so we too must share, 

Our plenty with the little birds of air! 


THE WORLD’S UNREST 

I feel the fever of the world’s unrest! 

Altho’ with quiet and solitude I’m blest, 

The waves of ether bring along to me 
Vibrations from the movements which there be 
Just now awaking in the hearts of men, 

As they feel Peace close unto earth again. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


95 


There is a something stirring in the air, 

That comes to us, we know not how or where, 
Electric Hashes pass and interchange, 

With one another—o'er the wide world range, 
And fill our hearts, and make our pulses go. 

As day by day the good news seems to grow! 

I feel the passions in the hearts of men, 

Rise from depression to great heights again! 
While cheerful faces smile on every side 
As people hurry to their work, and wide 
The influence which every day gives forth, 

Of hopeful tidings, reaching south and north! 

O! what a splendid Christmas shall be ours, 

If God so wills that all the Allied Powers, 

May by that date arrive at some fixed peace, 
Arranging for all war and strife to cease! 

And we perhaps shall sing on Christmas morn, 
Glad hymns unto the Prince of Peace—new-born! 


A HYMN 

Father in Heaven, Who knowest all, 

Who comest at Thy children’s call, 

Who givest comfort, givest peace, 

And, at the last our Soul’s release. 

From earthly bondage, and from care 
We seek Thy wondrous life to share! 
This thought comes to us ’midst all strife, 
“To know God is Eternal Life.” 

Here, in the Presence of Thy Son. 

We try to live so that “Well done” 

May sound upon our ears at last, 

When this life’s journey shall be past! 

Give us to work! teach us to pray 
And gain a little every day, 

Of strength and goodness, till we stand 
With those we love in the Better Land! 


96 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


PATIENCE 

If in bed I cannot sleep, 

If my thoughts fly everywhere, 

I can always try to keep 
In an attitude of Prayer. 

If I toss my weary head, 

Always, ever up and down! 

I can still resolve that I 
On all discontent will frown! 

I can learn to patient be, 

Lie asleep, or lie awake. 

Learning like my Lord to be, 

From His Hand my lesson take. 

Other folk are faring worse, 

Bearing more—complaining less, 
Shall I not their troubles share? 
Treating all with tenderness. 

Oh! the sorrows of the world! 

We must hold a Arm resolve, 

Till the Flag of Peace unfurled, 

Sees these troublous times dissolve! 


THE FAIRY QUEEN 

The Fairy Queen lies on a couch of Roses, 

Her bower is a lovely forest green! 

In slumber sweet, she oftentimes reposes. 

At other times she dons her regal mien! 

Her golden hair in flowing, wavy tresses, 

Bound by a diadem of jewels rare, 

At morning, and at eventide she dresses. 

And watches o’er her locks with tender care! 

Her gown of gossamer all bright and flowing, 

Is trimmed and edged with silver shiny beads; 
Her tunic is of magic’s best bestowing! 

She, with a fairy wand her subjects leads! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


97 


And oftentimes by silvery waves disporting 
Themselves, her elves and elfins may be seen; 
Or sometimes when the summer blossoms sorting, 
They dance at twilight gaily on the green. 

A throne of gold and silver there they raise her! 

In circles all adoring stand around; 

With songs and little fairy chants they praise her, 
And kneel before her lowly on the ground! 

Oh! Fairy Queen, so fresh and dainty ever, 
Remember to be always sweet and kind! 

May your grace and good humor fail you never, 
And keep on helping, poor old, dull mankind! 

We need you now, we need you always! ever! 

Our minds to cheer, our hearts and souls to bless, 
Stay in our thoughts and leave us never, never! 
Transform us with invisible caress! 

Oh! Fairy Queen! I think your name is kindness, 
I think that you will some day spring to view, 
If stupid mortals in their selfish blindness, 

Forget themselves and bow the knee to you! 

THE OPAL RING 

I have a friend of great renown, 

Who dwells in famous London Town; 

She wrote one day and said to me, 

“Will you accept, my darling E., 

A ring which to you I would send, 

’Twas given me by a rich friend— 

But the truth is, I never wear 

A ring of any sort, so share 

This gift with me, my dearest friend, 

And I to you the ring will send!” 

“I want to tell you that it holds 
An opal of great beauty! Golds 
Of several colors close it in, 

Yet on my finger long and thin, 

It will not stay; but oh! my Friend, 

I long this lovely thing to send 
To you, in token of my love, 

Which is as true as Heaven above!” 


98 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


I answered with reluctance, “Dear, 

That opals are unlucky hear 
I on all sides, and perhaps you 
Had better wait, and something do 
Another day, with your sweet ring, 

Yet it must be a lovely thing! 

1 here confess I longed to own 
This wondrous opal! It had llown 
Completely from my mind next week, 
And I a change of air would seek 
At a Friend’s house down by the sea. 
Where pleasant drives, Society, 

Of every sort, and varied talk, 

Kept me from thinking! On a walk 
It suddenly occurred to me 
To wish I had that ring, but see! 

All folks say opals are unlucky, 

And perhaps Pm not over plucky! 

So it was best I wrote to her, 

Just as I did! What is this stir 
Within the house? The Postman rings, 
A parcel small for me he brings; 

I open it and look inside, 

A white silk box—fit for a bride. 

And there the opal gorgeous lies, 

How ? it delights my wondering eyes! 

“Oh! Family!” I cried, “You see 
This perfect ring has come to me, 

And I must keep it, wear it, too. 

In token of the affection true. 

Of such a Friend of great renown, 

The authoress in London Town! 

We read her note. She said, “I send 
That ring to you! Love without end 
Goes with it—and the stone is fine, 

On your dear finger it must shine! 

Do pray accept this ring, I beg.” 

(Next day I fell, and broke my leg!) 


AND OTHER POEMS 
THE INDIAN SEAT 


99 


Did you ever see anything more sweet 
Than my lovely old carved Indian seat? 

It stands ’neath a shelter in Garden ground, 

And the outlook from there to all around 
Is charming, as I am sure you would say, 

If you chanced to be resting there some day! 

For many a month this seat could be seen 
By all passers-by in the Town, I ween, 

As it stood for sale in a shop window 
On the main High Street where the people go, 
Walking up and down, all the live-long day, 

For I’ve seen them gaze at it and then say, 

“Did you ever see anything more sweet 

Than that quaint, old, rare carved Indian seat?’’ 

A friend had sent me a very nice cheque, 

•ome present to buy, and she wrote, “Bedeck 
Yourself with an ornament, please, from me, 

Or hang something nice on your Xmas Tree, 

To remind you of one who loves you much.” 

I pondered awhile, over such and such 
A pretty thing I had seen in the Town, 

But it didn’t seem right somehow to crown 
Myself with another rich ornament, 

Though ’twas for that purpose the cheque was 
sent. 

One day the Gardener spoke to me, 

And “What a pity it is,” said he, 

“That we haven’t got a seat or two 
Around, to command the lovely view 
Which stretches from that side of the garden! 
Excuse me speaking, Mum! Beg your pardon.” 

“There’s many a visitor would sit 
And meditate for a quiet bit, 

If he had a seat whereon to rest! 

But you knows best, Mum! Yes, you knows best!” 


100 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Next day I was passing along the street. 

When whom should I suddenly chance to meet 
But the Indian man who owned the shop 
Where the lovely seat was, so I said “Stop, 

0! my friend, and say if you can sell 
That fine old seat, and the price pray tell I” 

He replied, “I’m shortly going away 
From this Township, and indeed any day 
I’d be very glad to sell you that seat! 

It’s a quaint old bit, and isn’t it neat?” 

The amount that he named was not too high, 

And if you’ll believe me, it’s quite true, I 
Quickly remembered the cheque of my friend, 

It was just the amount that she did send, 

Adding, “Buy an ornament rich or rare, 

Or something lovely to place in your hair,” 

But I thought, “I’ll get this Indian seat 
To place in our garden, for it is sweet.” 

“I see, Mum, you took my advice!” next day 
Said the Gardener, when on a nice clean dray 
The Indian seat arrived for the garden, 

“’Tis just the thing. Mum, begging your pardon!” 


THE GOLDEN CUP 

(Lines suggested on seeing for the first time the 
beautiful Golden Chalice at Leamington Par¬ 
ish Church.) 

The Golden Cup! The Golden Cup! 

0! lift that precious Chalice up 
That all may see who gaze on it 
A vessel of the Great Spirit. 

Embossed with rich and rare design, 

Used only for service Divine, 

Seldom such glory we behold 
In any Chalice made of gold. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


101 


There is a Legend that some tell, 

And Priests and Monks they know it well, 
Of how that vessel came to be 
Located in our Sanctuary. 

“One cup of water,” says the Word, 

“Given in Christ’s Name” meets its reward; 
And in the past, so runs the tale, 

A Priest dreamed of the Holy Grail, 

And thought that he was sent for by 
A woman poor, who sick did lie; 

And she was dying on the floor 
Just as he reached her cottage door. 

Awaking hastily he took 

His gown and cassock—crossed the brook 

Which ran between his home and hers, 

And sought her dwelling—’mid the firs. 

“Give me, oh, Father Paul,” she sighed, 

“One drink of water I” and then died I 
Before the last rites could be given, 

Her meek, sweet soul had passed to Heaven. 

Greatly chagrined at her sad end, 

And willing more on her to spend, 

The Padre paid all funeral rites. 

And blessed her cottage ere the nights 

Of winter grew so dark and cold, 

Tnat he felt worn, and sad, and old; 

And then he longed for help himself, 

And took his Chalice from the shelf. 

Where he was wont to keep it near 
A sacred picture he held dear! 

What did his wondering eyes behold, 

But a grand cup of chased gold! 

While in his ear a Voice was heard, 

“Take that, Paul, you have kept My Word; 
The cups of water you have given 
Have turned to shining gold in Heaven. 


102 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


And formed this Chalice you may use 
In God’s sweet service, if you choose; 
Ever to follow on the Way, 

It shall remind you of the day 

When you sought out that woman poor, 
And saw her die upon the floor.” 

The Father Paul thought ’twas a dream. 
So wonderful the whole did seem, 

Yet as he gazed with frightened air, 

The Golden Chalice still was there! 

And now ’tis on the Holy Table, 

And some who drink from it are able, 
So runs the tale, to feel the story 
That hangs about the Golden Glory. 


OUR ANGEL GUEST 

“O!” welcome to our midst, thou Angel-Guest, 
Unseen thou comest to our hearts opprest, 

But not unfelt! Yea, recognized by all, 

We know thy presence! It holds us in thrall! 

Glories, and comfort from the world above 
Thou bringest to us in thy tender love; 

Solace, and sweetest inspiration, too. 

Nothing w r e fear; thy visits still renew 

All of our best hope, and remembrance sweet; 
Longings and promises together meet 
Thoughts of celestial joys that wait afar 
For those who journey from this Earthly star! 

Oh! not unfelt, dear Angel in our home, 

Which once was thine, and still is! Come, oh! come 
Oft to be with us, morning, noon, or night; 

Only transparent air veils thee from sight! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


10b 


TO MARY, THE MOTHER OF CHRIST 

Sweet Mary! so Holy, the Mother of Christ! 

Hear us, when with thee, we would fain keep a 
tryst! 

So pure, and so lovely, a Lily art Thou! 

Before thee, all Angels, and spirits must bow. 

Sweet Mary, so Holy! the Mother of God! 

No words can express with what reverence have 
trod 

The millions of Souls to thy shrines in the Land! 

There praying to thee, who could’st well under¬ 
stand. 

All women, all maidens, down here must partake 

Of sorrow and suffering, which weak flesh doth 
make; 

Thou seest so many of us are forlorn; 

Perhaps thou wast, too, before Jesus was born! 

Give us strength, give us courage to carry the Rod, 

Sweet Mary! so Holy, the Mother of God. 

We see thee! we feel thee! we must thee adore: 

Enlighten, assist us, and comfort us more. 


THERE ARE NO DEAD 

It is so sweet for those who go, 

We saddened here remain! 

But oh! ’tis true we love them so. 
We must forget our pain. 

They, to a higher realm are sent, 
Their troubles here now cease; 
So we must try to be content, 

And yield to their release. 

For them the joy—for us the pain! 

And would ye hold them back? 
Ye cannot, an’ ye would, but fain 
Ye follow in their track! 


104 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


They’ve gained their joy before us now, 
And their reward is sure, 

Think of this fact, and then I know 
Ye better shall endure 

That separation which seemed hard, 

We thought ’twould break our heart, 

But now we find His Angel Guard 
Says, “Still ye do not part.” 

They have not gone—they still are here, 
Altho’ ye see them not; 

So vanquish every qualm of fear, 

Ye are not all forgot. 

They watch us as we laugh or weep; 
They long to see us glad; 

They see us waking or asleep, 

They hate to have us sad. 

“Rejoice! Rejoice!” that cry again, 
Another soul is free. 

Ye would not bring her back again 
When in Eternity. 

She can be well, and glad, and strong 
All blessings now are hers, 

Oh! greet the glad day with a song, 
What in our being stirs? 

This thought! this hope that she yet lives 
That she is ours always, 

And sweet assprance Scripture gives, 
That with both Prayer and Praise, 

We are to “follow on” and join 
Our best beloved one day! 

When Holy Spirit, Father, Son, 

Shall be with us alway! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
PREFACE 


105 


As Autumn leaves will droop and fall 
Concluding, and including all 
The glories of a Summer past, 

Which came in state, yet did not last— 
So if my friends should care to look 
Within the covers of this book, 

They will find leaves of Autumn thought, 
Which meditative hours have brought! 


RAIN 

Pouring in perfect water floods, 

The rain comes pelting down. 

It suits somehow to sometime moods, 
When Life itself would frown! 

No gaiety, no jaunts, no walks, 

No sitting calm about, 

But just some quiet friendly talks 
As we watch the storm without! 

How clean and fresh the air, the grass, 
When comes the sun again! 

We’re almost glad that cloud did pass, 
And thank God for the rain! 


A SNOWSTORM 

0! the snow is falling, falling o’er the landscape 
cold outside, 

And the Birds are calling, calling as they seek 
some place to hide, 

For the wintry aspect scares them, and they know 
not where to seek 

For the food they need so badly, just to fill each 
tiny beak. 


106 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


And the trees stand quiet, quiet, with their branch¬ 
es stretched to catch 

The flakes, that, drifting riot, in many a white¬ 
ning patch. 

And the ground will soon be covered with a downy 
coat of snow, 

And the folk will murmur, “0 how cold!”, as out 
in it they go. 

Well! we must not mind it, for the last of all the 
year is near, 

And December always brings a snowstorm, or 
some aspect drear. 

So we’ll pile the fire high with logs, and draw up 
chairs around, 

While the falling snowstorm works its will upon 
the outside ground. 

THE SCARECROW 

The scarecrow stands out in the fields! So bare 
It is that we shudder to see it there! 

All the birds are frightened, and fly away, 

Which leaves the young seeds in the ground to 
stay! 

And the scarecrow flaps its two ragged arms— 

It almost reminds you of War’s alarms— 
Battered and torn ,but still standing up there 
To frighten away all the birds of air! 

So many a thing that’s ugly and thin, 

May preserve a treasure that lies within 
All hidden away from the sight of man, 

But precious and needing—protecting ban, 

To guard from marauders who watch without 
To prey upon treasure that’s left about! 

So the scarecrow fills a valuable place, 

And we must forgive him his. ugly face! 

Fly aw^ay, Birds, leave the seeds in the ground! 
When the w^arm weather comes, they will be 

found 

Changed, and transformed into fair waving grain, 
By the time glad summer comes round again! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
THE SUMMER-HOUSE 


107 


The Summer-house! The Summer-house! 

O place of happiness for me! 

Ensconced within a garden fair. 

Beneath a stalwart, branching tree! 

0 Summer-house! 0 Summer-house! 

Where I may commune with the Muse, 

And find, if days be long or drear, 
Sometimes a Sonnet to amuse! 

Thy sheltering roof, from Rain or Sun, 

Doth shield, and far there from the World, 
I sit in peace, while all outside. 

Banners of War may be unfurled. 

The roses blow! The birds sing sweet: 

The seasons pass: they come and go. 

Yet hidden in the Summer-house, 

A sweet serenity I know! 

AS LEAVES IN AUTUMN 

Speak to me in my soul, 0 Heavenly Father, 

And make Thy beautiful Commandments clear. 
Grant that no whelming clouds of darkness gather 
Around my path, but keep it happy here. 

And when the morning sunshine falleth gaily 
Athwart the Earth, and ushers in the Light, 
Ihen may we rise with cheerful actions daily, 
Prepared to do Thy Will, and work for Right. 

As leaves in millions come to ground in Autumn, 
So may our words and actions many be, 
Countless in number, yea, more than we can sum, 
Yet dedicate unto—inspired by Thee. 

SUNSHINE THRO’ THE RAIN 

Sunlight thro’ the rain. 

Smiles thro’ our tears— 

Such is the history 
Of many years! 


108 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Thunder clouds breaking, 

Stars shining out, 

Weird contrasts making 
Round us about! 

Falter we never 
Treading the Road! 

Nothing must sever 
Us from our God. 

Life’s hardships meeting 
With a glad smile— 

All events greeting, 

Just for a while! 

We are at school here— 

Strive on! Strive on! 

Nothing we need fear 
Till our Crown’s won! 

THE ROBIN 

O! crimson -breasted Robin, hopping o‘er the turf 
so green, 

With startled heart and half regretful eyes, thou’rt 
surely seen, 

For where that emerald grass now lies thy little 
form below, 

We think thy presence seems to presage coming 
far-off snow! 

i 

Yea! where the clouds now hang all white, and 
fleecy in the sky, 

From thence one day shall fall the snow that 
blinds and hurts the eye, 

And though the covering it lays be soft and downy 
too, 

The icy cold is cruel, and in those days we’ll see 
you! 


AND OTHER POEMS 109 

So fly away, dear Robin, let the blackbirds sing 
again; 

Let linnets twitter, and the thrushes make their 
voices plain, 

For we do not want to lose our sunshine, nor the 
pleasant heat. 

And sweet Autumn September is a season hard to 
beat! 


TO FREDERICK WALSH 

(Passed away at Bordesley Green, Birmingham, 
June 16th, 1923) 

How terrible if there should be no Death! 

No death awaiting us to set us free 
For that fair Life, which in Eternity 
We go to, when we draw our latest breath! 

For there we hope to find the crowning wreath— 
The explanation of all mystery, 

Which here has puzzled us—the Golden Key, 
The perfect flower there—leave here the sheath! 

So let us smile, tho* sadly it may be, 

When some loved friend departs just for a time— 
We shall rejoin him there right royally, 

And taste with him the joys of that fair clime, 
And while we listen, he may often come, 

And whisper to us of the Heavenly Home! 


THE WINTER’S NIGHT 

The winter nights seem long and cold 
To those of us who’re growing old. 
We linger by the dying fire, 

Draw to the warmth a little nigher. 

Outside the sweeping, icy blast 
Is passing faster, and more fast. 

The birds are seeking shelter too, 
And sadly calls the chill Curlew. 


110 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The yellow light of brilliant lamp 
Reveals to us the printer’s stamp. 

We read and read, till heart and brain 
Are weary of the text again! 

At last we cry “Come, the day’s o’er!’’ 

And, seeking hastily the door, 

We seize a candle and ascend 

To where Dreams, Peace, and Sleep all blend! 

TO A DAUGHTER OF ERIN 

Wayward and lovely, a daughter of Erin, 

Came she across the blue waters to see 
What was the life in old England, and speirin’ 
Round for adventure, Fate introduced me! 

Rosy her cheeks like the clouds in a sunset,, 
Mobile her mouth as a wave of the sea. 

Firm with intention her red lips she has set, 
Faithful and dear, she’s a comfort to me! 

Wild as the shamrocks that grow in profusion 
Over the hillocks of Erin’s fair isle, 

O! should you flatter, she’d blush in confusion; 
Quick with an answer she’d force you to smile! 

But when the brow is contracted in anguish, 
Tender the touch, and her voice a caress: 
Grieved is her heart then to see how you languish: 
Heaves her fair bosom with blest tenderness. 

Laughing, capricious, O daughter of Erin, 
Obstinate, beauteous still is your heart! 

True as God made it, and hateful of all sin. 

Not for a Kingdom with it would I part! 

THE LITTLE BLACK CAT 

One day I was drowned in a deep despair. 

And nothing seemed right, while from everywhere 
Came trials and worries filling the air, 

And harassing my very soul with care 


AND OTHER POEMS 


111 


So I wandered into a garden fair. 

Hoping for comfort and solace out there, 

And bent my steps towards a shelter, where 
Stood a table, and cosy easy chair! 

It was a most comfortable spot to rest, 

And ponder at times over what is best. 

I keep it secluded and quiet lest 

The peace should he spoiled by unbidden guest. 

Then there sprang to my yiew a welcome sight— 
With paws outstretched, and a tail curled tight, 
Lay a small black pussy cat, black as night, 
Enjoying herself in my chair all right! 

Good luck you shall bring me, pussy cat dear. 
With your pretty ways and undoubted cheer. 
For it is well known that good fortune here 
Is the lot of those who shall find you near! 

The pussy cat strange jumped and fled away, 

But my cares had vanished—they did not stay— 
I laughed as I thought of a roundelay, 

And named it “The Pussy who called to-day!” 


THE ANCHOR 

Fasten it safely: chain it up tight! 

The anchor is heavy; our ship is too light 
To rock by herself on the billowy wave— 

We need this security truly to save 

Us from floating, or drifting, or slipping away— 

The anchor will prove a most precious mainstay! 

Heave it o’er! Lower it; now steady, boys! 
Indulge in your singing—a good cheery noise 
Is a help when work’s heavy, but has to be done— 
Sing a song then, my lads! The fast sinking Sun 
Will soon dip and go under the billowy sea. 

The Anchor make steady, and safe we shall be! 


112 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
ALLOTMENTS 


Say! have you an allotment, 0 my friend. 

That makes you happy, as the years go by— 

A little plot to cultivate and tend, 

Where turnips, peas and cabbages can lie, 

Where celery and cauliflowers shoot. 

And other useful growing things take root? 

It is a little place for happiness, 

This bit of Mother Earth you call your own! 

The sunshine and the rain you both can bless, 

For both are needed, when the seed is sown. 

And there you dig, and plant, and weed, and hoe r 
And look to see the things you’ve put in grow! 

With wheelbarrow you start at early morn. 

The wife says, “Bring us something, John, for 
lunch!” 

With step determined, to the manner born, 

You start, and ere long bread and cheese you’ll 
munch! 

For it is hard work, digging, bending low 
To raise the precious, needed potato! 

But still with pride and joy you persevere! 

This is your own allotment, and no doubt 
With time, and with attention fixed, severe, 

You’ll find there’s something ready to come out! 
Then home with joy you’ll go—food in each 
hand— 

And cry, “Here’s something from our bit of land!” 


So the allotments are a mine of wealth, 

Better than jewels, money, or fine gold! 

They furnish you a good supply of health 
And occupation—where you grow not old, 

But rather find your youth renewed with work,. 
And learn with Adam that you must not shirk! 


AND OTHER POEMS 

THE MOONSTONE 


113 


The Moonstone is a fair, pale shimmering thing— 
Place it upon your neck, or in a ring, 

And it reflects and gives out a sweet light, 

Which men call lucky! So you see it’s right 
That everyone should have a moonstone, where 
They can enjoy and love its beauty rare! 

A stone of goodly size was mine one year; 

It came from Ceylon, and the friend so dear, 
Who brought it, said to me at Xmas time, 

“Accept this: on your bosomTet It shine!” 

So I accepted it with a pleased smile 
And had it set in very modern style! 

Four months I wore that stone both night and day. 

My friends admired and would often say, 

“I’m sure that Moonstone to you fortune brings! 

Beware of losing it, lest then oh wings 
Your good luck should depart and nought atone!” 
So carefully I watched mjTprecious stone! 

One day the lovely pendant vanished quite. 

I sought in vain: it had gone from my sight 
My lover coming back from India’s Strand, 

Claimed me his Bride, and took my shrinking 
hand. 

He led me to the Holy Nuptial Altar, 

And cast around my neck a jewelled halter! 


ONE DAFFODIL 

One daffodil, O, precious thing, 
Before the poor man’s door! 

More pleasure I believe you bring 
Than countless ones in store, 

That crowd the gardens of the great, 
That fill the shop-windows! 

One daffodil in simple state, 

And golden glory glows! 


114 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Joy to his eyes! Hope to his heart 
You, little plant, may give— 

A token of the larger part, 

Which helps the soul to live— 

A tiny piece of the great whole, 

Shall not the poor man stand 
The equal of the rich or great 
In the far Better Land? 

THE MILL WHEEL 

0! the Mill Wheel! See the Mill Wheel! It is 
going round and round, 

Splashing, roaring, spray out-pouring, everywhere 
upon the ground. 

While the sunshine glistening, sparkling, makes a 
rainbow o’er its foam, 

And we hear it as we wander, onward thro’ the 
twilight home. 

So the Mill Wheel of our lives is turning, turning 
daily round, 

Sometimes gaily, sometimes sadly, are we covering 
the ground: 

Sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping, and the 
Rainbow of our smiles 

Sure is needed to irradiate, and our sad hours it 
beguiles. 

Turn on, Mill Wheel! you are casting cooling drops 
upon the soil; 

Keep on, brethren, hasting with your kindly deeds 
for those who toil— 

Let the Mill Wheel with its rushing, roaring waters 
be to you 

Just an emblem of the mighty, ceaseless good you 
all can do. 

WHAT THE LADY MAY SAID 

The Lady May stopped at my door; 

She said, “I have seen you before. 

But, O! it was so long ago, 

Before last Winter’s sleet and snow! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


115 


“I ran away and hid down south; 

I filled ray rosy, laughing mouth 
With oranges, and every fruit 

That nymphs or loving maidens suit. 

“I made myself garlands of flowers 
To while away the sunny hours!— 

Great violets, and carnations sweet, 

And roses lay about my feet! 

“I culled them—heaps of them—each day: 

I quite forgot my name was May!— 
Forgot, and thought it must be Flora, 

Till one in khaki whispered ‘Dora!’” 

,‘And then I rose and sought the camps, 
Where, lingering ’mid unhealthy damps, 
Thousands of suffering soldiers lay, 

To them I whispered ‘I am May!’” 

‘‘I am that friend who long ago 
In England’s home showed you the snow, 
Or sometimes, when in mood serene, 

May blossoms peeping in between! 

“The lovely hedges where the birds 
Sang melodies, all without words, 

And now I’ve come to France awhile, 

To help you all again to smile! 

“I shall stay here till the New Year 
Comes in, to bring us better cheer, 

And so I left each lad a-smiling, 

With happy hope, and glad beguiling!” 


THE DUSTMAN 

The dustman smiled as he bowed to me! 
“Yes! few 7 are busy as I!” said he, 

“For the world is always full of dust, 
Yet somehow to deal with it we must! 
We shovel it up, and shovel it dowm, 
And cart it all around the town! 


116 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Wherever we go there seems to be 
More dust than there’s water in the Sea! 

It blows about, and it gets through holes, 
And it aggravates our very souls! 

Then it blinds the eyes, and fills the mouth 
Blown along by a wind from the South!” 

And so we are led to moralize 
Most things are dust here under the skies; 
And we ourselves shall return to dust, 
(Then under his arm the broom he thrust!) 
Most things are dust now under the Sun, 

As dust shall end what dust has begun. 

“So I’m always busy!” the dustman passed, 
And a thick cloud of dust hid him at last! 


TO RODDY 
(A friend’s collie dog.) 

“Roddy!” our constant, well-beloved friend, 
Companion of my youth’s fair, happy days. 

Would that for thee sweet life need have no end, 
For I would sing of thee with heartfelt praise! 

Always a welcome in thy happy bark, 

Always a welcome in that wagging tail, 

Thy bright eyes shining at us in the dark, 

Lit with adoring love that cannot fail. 

What walk so happy as when thou didst run 
Blithely and cheerfully along the way! 

How good to see thee sporting in the Sun, 

Or seeking shelter on a sultry day! 

Friend of us all, dear Roddy, may we meet 
Again in spheres where partings are no more. 

With love eternal there, I shall thee greet, 

And cry, “Dear Roddy, mine forevermore!” 


AND OTHER POEMS 

IMAGINATION 


117 


Imagination sees what is not there! 

It is indeed a faculty most rare! 

With it the poor man gets himself great wealth; 
With it the sick man conjures himself health! 

And be it said there’s more of truth in this 
Than many a wise man of the World doth wis’! 

Imagination sees just everywhere 

The things she wants! 0! Joy beyond compare— 

O simple way of gaining all in life 

Without the turmoil or the heat of strife! 

You’ve doubtless heard of Castles built in Spain— 
Imagination knows they’re not in vain! 

Now hearken to this rhyme, good friend, my reader, 
’Tis for your benefit I would be pleader— 

I beg you Imagination to enrol 
Among those best friends you hug to your soul! 
With her you’ll journey far, and journey free 
To any country, e’en beyond the sea! 

In all achievement, or ambitious plan,, 

You will find that Imagination can 
Assist you more in getting what you want 
Than any other friend! However scant 
Her garments, and her substance, she will bless 
You with an ever growing happiness! 

THE STAR SAPPHIRE 

Far in the streams of Ceylon’s Isle, 

Round which the sparkling wavelets smile, 
Once lay upon the rocky earth 
A gem of most uncommon worth, 

And in the bosom of the stream 
This star-sapphire did dimly gleam. 

Until at last a searcher found 

The lovely thing there on the ground, 

And brought it out to light of day, 

Where sun could on its surface play, 

And then the owner knew that he 
Had found a gem of rarity. 


118 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


As poured the light upon the stone, 

He saw the splendid violet tone 
Of the fair sapphire in his hand, 

And grasped it trembling. Ceylon’s land 
Had seldom seen more beauteous thing, 
Fitted indeed for brooch or ring. 

The Corundum, with its six rays, 

Shining away as if to praise 
The Great Creator, who could make 
So fair an object. “Now I’ll take 
This stone up to the big Hotel 
Where all the foreign travellers dwell. 

“And see if one therein may be 
A purchaser of this from me!” 

Thus spake the owner in delight, 

But waited till the tropic night 
Should fall and stars come out above 
O’er Ceylon’s Isle—so rich in love. 

And beauty—Nature’s fav’rite child, 
Where charms of every sort beguiled 
The European traveller who 
Oft landed there this isle to view. 

It chanced that one was staying there 
Who loved all things of splendor rare, 

And knew Dame Fortune smiles upon 
The owner of a sapphire stone, 

Wherein lie hidden the six rays 
That make the star a perfect blaze. 

Oft had he seen in street and shop 
Jewels like this—would often stop 

Their striking brilliance to admire. 

Their gleaming, blue, translucent fire. 
Yet had he never thought to own 
Himself, a fair star-sapphire stone. 
Poetry he loved, and art as well— 
Indeed within him there did dwell 


AND OTHER POEMS 


119 


A soul that would find God in all 
Things beautiful, or great, or small. 

And now it chanced that to him came 
The Gingalee with eyes aflame. 

“O ,sir,” cried he, “buy, buy from me 
This stone, w r hich I would sell to thee 

“I owe a debt of more rupees 

Than I can pay, and should this please 

Your honour, and a sale take place, 

I could discharge my debt with grace!” 
The sapphire gleamed within his hand— 

An eager suppliant he did stand. 

The Poet stood in rapt surprise, 

The dazzling gem before his eyes; 

The price was high—but O! how fair 
The sapphire shone! What could compare 
With this strange gem from Ceylon's stream? 
How fitly on some hand would gleam! 

No longer could he now refuse, 

So paid the price—he could not choose. 
The seller bowed, and left in bliss: 

The Poet sighed; the stone was his. 

That night as he laid fast asleep, 

All wrapt in restful slumber deep, 

To him there came a w T ondrous dream, 
That like reality did seem— 

A Being from another sphere 
Into his presence floated here, 

Beside his couch in Ceylon’s Isle, 

And gazed upon him with a smile! 

“I am the Spirit of the stone, 

Which from this happy day you’ll own, 
And know now that I bring to you 
A gift that’s precious, rare, and true. 

For men shall flock to see this ring, 

And they to you will friendship bring, 


120 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


“More than you’ve ever known before. 
Many shall knock upon your door, 

And love to see the starry rays 
Which lie within this stone and raise 
Up for you many nights and days 
Of happiness with simple praise. 

But you must live with motive high, 
Prepared to dwell on, or to die, 

To do God’s Will in Earth, or Heaven, 

For this to you a charge is given. 

So shall you happily wear on 
The star-rayed sapphire of Ceylon!” 

W * * 

And having spoken thus she passed 
Away from out his sight at last. 

While he was left in wondering thought 
At the sweet message she had brought, 
Pondering as he slowly woke 
Upon the words the Spirit spoke. 

This dream, so strange, did yet prove true, 
For as the Poet older grew, 

He found himself with hosts of friends, 
More than the usual kind Fate sends. 

And daily lived with him the Ring, 
Whose story here to you I sing. 


A KING INDEED 

“Strip off those jewels all, and let me see 
If that man still a Royal King will be! 

Thus spake in tones of proud and haughty might 
The conqueror—after a weary fight 
In chains he drew a King behind his car— 

A monarch vanquished in a foreign war! 

Quickly they tore the bracelets from each arm. 
The shield that had protected him from harm, 
The jewelled scabbard of his sword removed 
Which such a mighty friend in fight had proved. 
And all the chains that hung around his neck, 
The rings which his great hands did well bedeck! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


121 


Even the Crown that might have told a story l 
Stript and bereft of all this outward glory, 

The King stood yet upright, and grand in soul, 
His countenance showed still sublime control; 

His eyes shone with the knowledge of His God, 
In Whom he trusted, for he’d ever trod 
In ways of charity, and kindness too, 

And now he stood, a man exposed to view. 

My life is yours to take!” he cried aloud 
Before a listening and amazed crowd. 

“One stroke from yonder headsman and I fall— 
No succour would avail if I should call, 

Or plead for help!—but know, 0 mighty King, 
That far beyond this Earth my soul shall spring 
Upward, and soaring ever through the air, 

I shall escape to regions far more fair 

Than anything you ever yet have known, 

There shall I stand before Jehovah’s throne! 
These baubles, and these jewels you have torn , 
From my poor body, only have been worn 
To satisfy and please my people’s pride, 

And very gladly them I cast aside! 

The jewels which no man can take from me 
Lie hidden deeply in Eternity. 

They are the deeds I did for others’ good— 

The cup of water, or the daily food 
Supplied to starving men—the words I said 
When broken-hearted mourners laid their dead 
Upon the ground, nor knew which way to turn, 
For comfort—such as these I did not spurn, 

But helped to raise the lowly and the meek, 

And said. “They surely find, the ones who seek!” 
All of my past is mine beyond reclaim— 

1 hold it in the Strength of God’s Great Name!” 

Awed, and struck dumb by such a noble speech. 
The conquering King both hands did then outreach! 
“Come, brother, you are every inch a King! 

These baubles, glittering jewels, everything 

That I have taken, to you I restore 

Your freedom, and a King you stand once more; 


122 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Yours is a Kingdom that no man can move; 
Yours is a throne founded and buiit on Love! 
Show me the man who can more fitly claim 
To bear of Sovereignty the Royal name! 

Goodness—true wealth—by all must be declared— 
Pass! go in peace; by me your life is spared!” 

THE SACRED PICTURE 

There is a tiny chapel near a wood, 

Where, long ago, in safety sweet there stood 
A sacred picture of Our gracious Lord 
Expounding to a little group The Word, 

And mostly children, all His audience there, 
Those little ones He always held so dear. 

During the war the soldiers often came 
To look at it and bow before the same, 

While some said healing properties it had, 

And seeing it would make the folk feel gltad! 

It chanced one morning that a General, who 
Had been twice wounded, and, as all men knew, 
Had trouble with his shoulder, a stiff arm. 

Came in and prayed to be kept free from harm 
All through the battle on the following day, 

When he must lead his men in an affray. 

“0, God!” he cried aloud, in anguish there, 

“For ordinary danger I don’t care, 

If I could only use my good right arm 

And hold my sword—then naught would me alarm! 

But in a sling to carry it, and go 

Half helpless ’gainst a cruel, fiendish foe! 

Thou canst do all things, as I do believe; 

Grant me, O Lord, this blessing to receive.” 

The church was empty. The sun’s slanting beams 
Peeped thro’ a stained glass window. Now he 
dreams— 

His head sinks low in meditation deep, 

And presently the General falls asleep: 

Alone and peaceful, resting gently there; 

Nought is apparent, but the evening air 
Carries with it a messenger from God. 

Who oft before to our poor earth has trod. 


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123 


An angel visitant, and one who knew 
His mission was to help in answering true 
And faithful prayers before this Holy Shrine, 
Which sheltered such a picture, rare, divine. 

Softly he whispered in the General’s ear, 

‘‘Arise now, friend! The answer is made clear. 
For what you need, and what, in faith, you ask— 
A whole right arm to aid you in your task!’’ 

“I’ve dreamed!” the General said, opening his eyes. 
“Methought an angel came, to my surprise, 

And said “Your arm is well.” It cannot be! 

And yet the picture seemed to smile sweetly 
On him, and rising up he turned to go, 

With aching heart, back to his tent, when lo! 

The sling his right arm carried suddenly 
Broke and came off. Then to his ecstasy 
He found his arm would stretch out whole and 
well. 

(It is a sort of miracle I tell!) 

In sheer amazement, but with joy unfeigned 
The General tried once more! He had regained 
The full use of his so precious right arm, 

To aid, protect, and keep himself from harm! 

The holy picture still is hanging there. 

In that quaint chapel, listening to prayer, 

And healing those who come in simple faith. 

“Ask and ye shall receive!” the Scripture saith, 

“ NOWT ” 

In Lancashire North, where the maidens are fair, 
They have a quaint way of replying up there. 

If ye ask them a question ’bout which they don’t 
care 

“Nowt!” 

It ye slip an arm gently around and about 
A fair lassie’s waist, be she slender or stout, 
She’ll probably answer with just a wee pout— 

“Nowt!” 

If ye say “Do ye love me, and may I explain 
My feelings, dear lassie, my heart is in pain?” 
She’ll smile at ye inebbe. but still the refrain 

Is “Nowt!” 


124 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Do ye ken any news that is cheerful to hear? 
Can ye brighten my heart, from my ee’en wipe 
the tear? 

She’ll glance at ye straightly, without any fear, 

And answer “Nowt!” 

So the Lancashire lassies may bide where they 
be. 

They’ll get no more courting this season from me, 
And if they should question, the answer may be 

“Nowt!” 

TO A PICTURE ENTITLED “FANCY” 

0 Fancy Fair, of joyful mien, 

By mortals thou art seldom seen, 

And yet thy sweet enchanting face 
Would strew the path of Life with grace! 

Thy golden locks that stream behind 
Fluttering, and curling in the wind. 

Like tendrils are of some rare Vine, 

Suggesting loveliness divine! 

Thine eyes of Hashing, azure blue 
Would seem to look us through and through! 

The more we gaze at thee, we see 
Thou’rt precious to Humanity! 

Come on our path, and lightly tread 
The way with us: let it be said 
That tho’ we are in love with thee, 

We ever shall be Fancy free! 

A FAIR NOVEMBER 

November, dreaded month of all the year, 

How quickly hast thou called and passed us by! 
And as we faintly wondered with a sigh, 

“How shall we live this month without a tear?” 
Lo! every day the sun rose, bringing cheer, 

And seemed to say, “Fear not! Thy God is 
nigh!” 

His presence is a light unto the eye, 

And there is nought we have to dread or fear!” 


AND OTHER POEMS 


125 


E’en in November roses may be found! 

Not every leaf has fallen—Trees stand brave, 
While other blossoms linger on the ground, 

And Earth herself is not a weary grave 
For Nature’s loveliness—so smile again— 
November bringeth joy as well as pain! 

TO DENNIE 

To meet an old friend after many years, 

And find her love unchanged—Ah! this endears 
Her to our hearts, and we can recognize 
The same sweet soul that e’er looked from her 
eyes. 

To know her grown in thought and mind more 
broad, 

Yet still as faithful in each mood and word 
To the high standard, that was ever hers— 

All this within our bosom gladness stirs! 

0, Dennie, many friends were ever thine; 

How many lives with thine thou dost entwine! 
May every blessing, fairest and divine, 

Await thee everywhere. This wish is mine! 

TRAVELLING BY TELEPHONE 
(A Dream.) 

A beauteous being stood within my room one sum¬ 
mer’s day, 

Much her arrival startled me—with wonder I 
cried, ‘Tray 

Explain to me, O friend, whom now I recognize at 

last, 

How have you reached me here from London 
Town so very fast? 

“ ’Tis long since we have met, yet still I’ve borne 
you in my heart, 

And all your lovely nature of my life still forms a 
part; 

But one thing puzzles me, and this it is, I frankly 
own, 

How have you reached me here so suddenly, and 
all alone?” 


126 THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 

Throwing her arm around my neck with loving 
sweet caress, 

She whispered, “ Tis a mystery—to you I will 
confess— 

My presence here is part of a rare new discovery— 

A new invention patented with electricity! 

“The fact is,” she continued in mysterious under¬ 
tone, 

“I’ve travelled down from London Town upon 
the telephone! 

We learn to fuse our beings with the wires in a 

way 

That’s difficult now to explain, but you will know 
some day! 

“We dematerialize, in fact, like Spirits as ’tis 
known, 

And that is how we manage travelling by the 
telephone! 

It’s really wonderful, and I myself can only stay 

A short, short time, but hope to come again another 
day! 

She seemed so fair, ethereal, it filled me with 
amaze, 

While all that I could do was just to look at her 
and gaze, 

And wonder how she managed this. It puzzled 
me, I own, 

To view a lady who had travelled down by tele¬ 
phone! 

Still as I watched she seemed to sink, and vanish 
towards the floor, 

She sought to pass herself between the wardrobe 
and the door. 

And presently I found myself again left all alone, 

While from a distance came the sound of tinkling 
telephone! 

THE TURN OF THE WHEEL 

Now up! Now down, on turns the Wheel— 
Dame Fortune is a fickle maid 
Remember this all ye who feel 
Of grim misfortune oft afraid! 


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127 


Now up, now down, the wheel turns round. 
And some are high, who shall be low. 
From near the sky, down to the ground, 

It must be so! Yes! on they go! 

Revolving fast, revolving long, 

Life’s wheel turns on down here below, 
And solving problems deep and strong, 

We men must follow on also. 

Now up! Now down! Ye take your turn, 
Children of men, ah! wail not so, 

For if Dame Fortune’s smiles are stern, 

At times, they too make wreathed show! 


THE GATE OF REMEMBRANCE 

O! pass with me thro’ a small gate 
That leads to spaces wide; 

The Sea of Life rolls there beyond 
The ebb, and flow of tide. 

Far-reaching is the aspect there, 

Beyond all mortal ken, 

And mem’ry stretches backward where 
The past smiles an Amen! 

'Tn Remembrance” read these letters 
Written o’er this tiny gate! 

Our attention chains and fetters 
This recalling of past fate. 

First we think of deeds and faces 
In a sweet succession quick, 

Then we dream of perfect places, 

Till the heart grows sad and sick, 

For those joys that once hung round us 
In the happy long ago— 

Close then the Gate of Remembrance, 
Perhaps it is better so! 


128 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


A RED LILY 

My love is like a lily, deep and red 
Mysterious, half-closed and full of dread. 

I fear to have it open and display 

Its quivering depths to light of common day. 

My love is for mankind and for all good, 
Not limited to one—’tis understood. 

But Love itself, like rainbows many hued, 
Plays o’er the surface of my life endued 

With passion, suffering, and often pain I 
With hope, rejoicing, laughter comes again, 
And, ere the lily opes to show its heart, 

In quiet solitude it dwells apart 


TO G. C. 

He served! What more can any being do? 

He served mankind, and served His God in them. 
Now shall he reap a recompense most true, 

And wear an everlasting diadem. 


PULL TOGETHER 

If the world would pull together, this today and 
every day, 

We would soon see whether Unity was not a 
thing to pay; 

Then the roaring strife of quarrels, and dissen¬ 
sions all would cease, 

And Humanity would settle down to some real 
kind of peace. 

If Mankind would pull together like the brothers 
that they are, 

There’s no doubt that something better here would 
take the place of War, 

And the earth would have a chance of showing 
what she best can do— 

0! Give her that chance, fellow-men, for her wel¬ 
fare rests with you! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


129 


When our gallant Prince came home, he brought 
us all a message here, 

And it’s sounding thro’ the Empire, with its thrill¬ 
ing note and clear— 

“Pull together!” so now take it, and let every class 
be bent 

On carrying out this splendid precept, that’s for 
our guidance sent. 


THE NEW LIFE 

The way to be born to the new self is to die to the 
olden creeds, 

To lose the longing for golden pelf, in desire for 
nobler deeds, 

To pass away from the old sad life to one that is 
far more grand, 

To hold up a torch, and carry it high, to help along 
in the land. 

The way to be born to the new self is to leave the 
old behind, 

To take and to make a finer thing of the wonder¬ 
ful human mind, 

To teach it to rule the body, keeping it under 
control, 

That flesh may submit and bow itself before the 
rule of Soul. 

So yield yourselves to the new things of life as 
they come along, 

And join your voice, as you rejoice, in making a 
grand new song. 

And then when the Earth and the Heavens all 
shall melt and pass away, 

You will still be found to have standing ground 
beneath your feet alway! 

And you can not sink, you shall not shrink, at 
whatever God reveals, 

You will bear the shock, if you stand on the Rock, 
which guards, and strengthens and heals. 


130 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


TO A WHEELBARROW 
Friend of the honest working man of toil, 

The Gardener, and the tiller of the soil, 

I sing to thee—not to the plough and harrow. 
But rather unto thee, humble wheelbarrow! 

Without this friend to help him in his work, 

His task might e’en the keenest gardener irk, 

But where the paths are straight, and long, and 
narrow— 

There goes along with him his good wheelbarrow! 

Freshly the breeze blows, and the shining Sun 
Looks pleasantly upon the work that’s done. 
There lights the Robin, and there chirps the Spar¬ 
row— 

I often see them near the old wheelbarrow! 

But if it were not for this humble friend. 

Full many a task would linger o’er its end, 

Where almost breaks the spine, and melts the 
marrow, 

There in unfailing strength stands the Wheel¬ 
barrow! 


THE SHINING LAND 

I have come from a far shining land, 

Where the Sun rules the night and the day. 
Where the silvery waves lave the strand. 
And their white-crested caps seem at play. 

There no trouble or sorrows prevail; 

There the life is a glorious one, 

And no pen and no language the tale 

Of that land can describe ’neath the sun! 

O! the flowers are fairer than fair, 

And the songs of the birds are sublime. 
And no clouds cast a shadow up there 
In that heavenly, perfect, sweet clime. 

O! I long to return to that Home, 

When all sorrow and sighing are done. 
And as soon as my Angel calls, “Come!” 
Then I’ll fly with her back to the Sun. 


AND OTHER POEMS 131 


TO E. C. C. 

One more radiant human being 
Gone to join the Choir of Light; 

One more blinded creature seeing 
Heaven’s bright Day, after Earth’s night. 

Once again the choirs celestial, 

Anthems full of welcoming, 

For this traveller terrestrial, 

Sweetly raise, and gladly sing. 

She, who lived a life of beauty, 

Showed to others here the way, 

Now shall reap reward of Duty, 

While on Earth we yet must stay. 

May God grant us such a passing, 

Full of years and full of Peace, 

When we cross the rapid River, 

And Death gives us full release. 

TO AGNES 

Beautiful Agnes, young and so radiant, 

Waiting art thou on the far distant shore! 

Earth could not hold thee, and love could not 
chain thee; 

Ne’er shall our fond arms encircle thee more. 

Graceful and girlish, the pride of thy parents, 
Dear to the family, loved by us all, 

Say, what strange destiny called thee away from 
us, 

How dids’t thou hear it, the trumpeter’s call? 

Was it an angel, in garment of whiteness, 

Leaning above thee, who bade thee awake, 
Lured thee with music, enchanted and drew thee 
Could’st thou not linger here, just for our sake? 

“Nay!” thou repliest, “I love ye, I see ye! 

Mourn me not absent; I still shall be near— 
’Tis ye who are sleeping! I am in happiness! 

O my best loved ones that hold me so dear! 


132 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


“Travel your Earth lives in patience and kindness; 
Think of me watching and loving you all. 

Weep not with tears that betray a great blindness, 
Is not my spirit just freed from earth’s thrall? 

“Still am I Agnes, your loved one and loving, 
Waiting and watching, and close to you still; 

And there are others, too, whispering, proving 
They are not dead—no! such is not God’s Will. 

“I am among them, and glorious our living, 
Happiness more than you ever could dream. 

Just a short message this, dearest of Fathers, 
Through a strange hand, yet familiar ’twill seem. 

“Take it as written, and marvel not, wondering, 
Message of love and of truth that I tell; 

Accept it and bless it, and thankfully use it, 

Your little Agnes is living and well!’’ 


FIRELIGHT SHADOWS 

Firelight-shadows dancing on the wall, 

How they flicker! How they do recall 
Days now past of happy long ago, 

When I sat to hear your loved voice low, 

Telling me, 0 darling Mother mine, 

Of your life, and ever you’d entwine 
Some sweet precept—teach a lesson true 
To the child, who listened then to you. 

Darling I am ever striving still 
God’s behest, and yours, to e’er fulfil, 

And with great rejoicing, well I know 
You can watch our lives unfold below. 

You are never really far away, 

Tho’ at times you must mount with the day 
To your new and perfect life above— 

Still you’re linked with us in bonds of Love! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


133 


And we know and feel it in this home, 

Realize your presence when you come, 
Influence so potent and so sweet— 

Ah! what ecstasy when we shall meet! 

A PRAYER 

My soul refreshed by silent prayer 
Returns to earthly thought; 

New hopes, new strength I now can share, 
For these to me are brought! 

Unstable, weak, and full of sin, 

My being still must fight, 

And, in the end, shall conquering win. 

And rise through the dark night! 

To higher planes, and fuller trust, 

Where faith is lost in sight. 

And yet, leave it to God I must, 

For His is all the Might. 

And so another day goes by, 

Another step is past. 

And nearer to Eternity 
We draw, our Goal at last! 

PEBBLES 

I love to count the pebbles 
That lie upon the shore— 

They seem just like God’s blessings, 

To be in number more 
Than any human being 
Can ever count at all— 

His Mercies, like the pebbles, 

All sizes great and small. 

BRIGHTER AND BRIGHTER SHINES THE 
EVENING STAR 

Brighter and brighter shines the Evening Star, 
As daylight passes, and recedes afar. 

Brighter and brighter shines the human Soul, 

As through the dark it passes to its Goal. 


134 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


CAN 

O! little word that means so very much— 

Three letters make it, but the mighty touch 
Of strength and life it gives, and seems to teacn. 
Is something a whole alphabet can’t reach 1 

To say, and feel “Ah, yes! I will and can!’ 

Does wholly transform any timid man! 

A hero rises from the bed of “can’t,” 

Prepared a whole new song of Life to chant! 

Small “Can” has worked this wonder and again 
We give our thanks—his power is so plain. 
Whenever you are starting a new plan, 

Call in the friendly help of little “Can”! 

THE LYRE 

Methinks each human being is a Lyre 
For God to touch, and gently play upon; 
And as he tunes it ever high and higher, 

It grows more fit for Praise and Orison. 

SLEEP 

A maiden flying through the blue-black air, 

Of starry night, eludes me everywhere. 

Vainly I clutch her Garment—vainly weep— 
Alas! that lovely maiden’s name is Sleep! 

PEACE IN SOLITUDE 

Peace when the turbulent spirits have left us, 
Peace when we wander alone. 

Say not their anger of joy has bereft us, 

Calm still—the mind’s undertone. 

Lightly the breeze stirs, and ripples the waters 
Quiet the depths underneath. 

Peaceful and smiling are Neptune’s fair daughters 
The foaming breakers beneath. 

Steadfast the rock is, on which we are fixing 
Our shield of faith as we go. 

Joy with our labours is endlessly mixing, 

And it shall triumph o’er woe. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


135 


THE ANGELS 

White Angels in thousands encircle the Throne 
Of Him, who is Mighty! Our great God alone 
Knows their number, their being, and why they 
are there, 

But His Bidding they do, and His Way they 
prepare. 

Great Souls are great Angels in Heavenly Life— 
They fought and they conquered in Earth’s weary 
strife! 

So now, ’tis their joy to help others along, 

And lead them to join in the Heavenly Song! 

Grand praises and chants, thro’ the spheres shall 
resound— 

Harmonious chorals, and wonders of sound! 

For the actions, and thoughts of the children of 
Earth, 

When translated, form music of beautiful worth! 

Such joy to the Angels is all goodness rare— 
They see its vibrations arise thro’ the air, 

While bright colours radiant, and haloes most 
grand, 

Encircle all those who do good in the land! 

So worship with Angels! Sing laud and sing 
praise! 

All honour to Him, who is “Ancient of Days”! 
With choirs invisible we can join in thought, 
And realize what triumphs for us Christ has 
bought! 

TO MISS EDITH THOMSON ON HER BIRTHDAY 

O valued friend, whose presence with us here 
Unfeigned example of righteousness doth show, 
How gladly on this Birthday would we greet 
The happy day, and may it overflow 

With richest blessings—bring thee love of friends, 
Esteem, and peacefulness in thine own heart, 
Content with life, and patience, which e’er bends 
To fill God’s Will, and nobly do thy part. 


136 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Industry reigns supreme in all thy life; 

No idle moments of regret are thine; 

A valiant share in the World’s daily strife, 

A countenance where cheerfulness doth shine! 

So, may we on this Birthday recognize 
How well thou fillest here the great behest— 
“Work, while ye have the day!” for in God’s eyes, 
Work nobly done brings ever sweetest rest. 

TO L. E. 

So many friends hast thou, my friend, 

That when a tiny poem I send, 

To speak of thy so kindly heart 
I fear to play superfluous part, 

In telling once again what all 

Know well! Thy goodness doth enthrall! 

For Charity and Industry 

Go walking side by side with thee 

And all who know a cultured mind 

Is God’s best gift to human kind, 

Can see that He has blest thee well, 

Beyond what words of mine can tell! 

So, Lena, keep me in thy thought 
With kindliness, and suffer nought 
To separate two such old Friends, 

For Love to Life enchantment lends! 

A CHILD’S LULLABY 

Sleep peacefully within thy bed this night, 

And waken not until the morning light 
Comes peeping through the curtained window- 
pane, 

Rousing thee up to work and play again! 

Sleep peacefully, my little child, and rest: 

Pillow thy downy head upon this breast. 

Let us thank God we hold each other dear; 

Let us rejoice that He is ever near! 

Sleep peacefully, dear Lamb of Love, and rest 
Together thou and I—so greatly blest! 

Love is the Angel’s food, all pure and white. 
Hush! and sleep, little one, while it is night! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


137 


THE VOICES 

Do you hear them, hear the Voices 
Calling to you o’er Life’s sea? 

Some are grieving, some deceiving, 
Still they call, “Hearken to me!” 

Do you hear them—hear the Voices? 
Some of joy and gladness speak, 

Brilliant pictures, without sadness, 
They depict for those who seek. 

Sometimes voices to the Conscience 
Whisper, “Duty, born of Love, 

Is the highest gift from Heaven 
Which a man can ever prove. 

Toil and strive, and still climb higher! 
Fear not Death, and fear not Life. 

All is well if you aspire 
Just to seek God in the strife. 

Sometimes falling, sometimes rising, 
Battling on again, again, 

So the human race goes calling 
“Victory” across the plain. 

Voices! Voices! listen to them, 

Tho’ at times confused they be. 

They are calling, Mortals, to you 
Ever o’er Life’s stormy sea. 


THE GUIDANCE OF THE SPIRIT 

Trust the guidance of the Spirit, 

’Tis a thing that never fails: 

Everything that we inherit 
’Fore its lovely influence pales. 

Subtle, strange, and unexpected 
Are the ways in which it leads: 

Keep your hearts and thoughts collected— 
Happy is the one who heeds! 


138 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Rules there are not, but exceptions 
To all ordinary things, 

In the actions and perceptions 
Which into the soul it brings. 

Stillness, quiet, and devotion 
Necessary are to it; 

Holy wishes and emotions 
Bring to us the great Spirit. 

Peace and happiness it gives us: 

Hearken, O! my brethren all, 

To that Inward Voice which speaks thus— 
Listen for the Spirit’s Call! 


RETROSPECTION 

As I look back across the stormy waves of Life’s 
sad sea, 

So many flashes bright gleam out upon the far 
gone past. 

I seem to see a plain, with myriads of flowers on 
the lea; 

It all is so bewildering, that I close my eyes at 
last. 


As I look back upon my heart’s strange journey 
o’er the road. 

And think how many I have loved, how many 
have loved me, 

I wonder if all men have trod a pathway half as 
broad, 

And if as many varied sights in their lives they 
did see. 

And ever broader grows the stream, as I am 
carried down; 

Further apart the banks are lying, and the 
current’s swift, 

And tho’ the lights shine out at times, from many 
a nestling Town, 

Still on I go, and never land, but am compelled 
to drift. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


139 


Yet somehow—somewhere, all will end! My little 
craft will reach 

A Harbour safe, and silent, on a happy Golden 
Shore, 

And there I w T ell shall know the meaning of things 
without speech, 

And rest, and understand, and dwell in peace 
for evermore. 

THE EVENING STAR 

A cloud across the Evening Star 
Obscures its light from view, 

And yet we know it shines afar 
Still yonder in the blue! 

A sorrow passes o’er the mind, 

And life is dark awhile, 

But if the morrow shall prove kind, 

Again we hope to smile! 

So mind not cloud, and fear not pain— 
They both have here a place; 

Each one makes us more glad again 
To see Joy’s smiling face! 

WELCOME TO A ROSE 

O! welcome, perfect Rose upon the thorn— 
Thrice welcome in our garden this fair morn! 
Upon a radiant day in June thou’rt born. 

Welcome! 

No rarer work of Art can Nature show— 

Such colouring—such beauty bending low! 
Glad greeting we most fittingly bestow. 

Welcome! 

To be so beautiful doth make thee blush! 

No rough embrace thy fragile form must crush, 
Altho’ to gaze on thee we quickly rush 

Welcome! 

Great God, Who madest every lovely thing— 
The flower to bloom, the tiny bird to sing— 
Grant that each rose into our hearts may bring 

A Welcome! 


140 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


AT SUNSET 

To see the glory of the Sunset calling 
To happy thoughts and walks across the fields, 
To hear the heart and voice of Nature calling, 
And feel the quiet joy thus seeing yields. 

Such is toward evening oftentimes thy blessing, 
Great God, Who made and lovest everything; 
And with all grateful hearts Thy Power confessing, 
We lift our hearts to Thee, and anthems sing! 


LITTLE THINGS 

Tis often little things in life that help us by the 
way— 

Events quite small, by many folks, perhaps, unno¬ 
ticed they— 

A tiny child will smile with glee, as trustfully it 
dares 

To look at us, tho’ strange we be, it seems to 
banish cares! 

A singing bird breaks forth in trills; a robin 
hops around,, 

His swelling breast with love is full—we watch 
him o’er the ground! 

A sudden burst of sunshine, where the clouds 
looked dark and grey, 

Will often brighten up the mind, and cheer us for 
the day! 

An early flower, when winds are cold, the meeting 
with a friend— 

All trifles these, and yet, somehow, they can 
enchantment lend— 

A kindly look, a word of praise that sinks deep in 
the heart. 

The thought of future meeting with that friend 
from whom we part! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


141 


Ah, well can I remember one December morn so 
grey, 

When darkness reigned at seven o’clock—it 
scarcely seemed like day— 

A sudden sound brought to my heart of happiness 
a ray— 

’Twas just a little errand boy, passed whistling on 
his way! 


RAIN 

At last it comes, each drop is worth 
A thousand pounds to England’s earth I 
Without the rain, the crops must fail; 
Come on then, thunder, lightning, hail! 

All moisture from the skies must fall. 
The Power that ruleth over all 
Has thus decreed, that in the earth 
Shall die the seed to give fruit birth! 

Yet from above must come the food, 
Both sun and rain, which makes it good! 
So on this very rainy day 
We will give thanks and gladly say, 

Our Heavenly Father, Who doth know 
Just what His children need below, 
Loving and kind hath sent this rain. 
Let’s thank Him o’er and o’er again! 


NEXT SPRING 

The Spring! the darling Spring! 

O! ’tis of her I sing 
Because she left us, 0! so long ago! 

Ere we can meet again, 

We have to pass thro’ rain, 

And hail, and sleet, and probably much snow! 


142 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


But we know that lovely Spring, 

(Yes, it is of her I sing!) 

Never really has forgotten to be kind! 

She is hiding well away, 

But she’ll meet us—come next May, 

And in the meantime we need not be blind. 

To the things she gave us here, 

The beginning of the year, 

All the birdies and the blossoms which she 
brought! 

Then the summer came along, 

And with her a gorgeous throng 
Of helping Nymphs, and Fairies gay! She 
taught 

Them to finish fine and well 
Spring’s fair work begun, and tell 

Of surprises never ending still in store! 

So we’ll look ahead some way, 

Dreaming of another May, 

For we mean to love her always more and more! 


AT LAST 
Dedicated to Rosa 

Ah! say it not too low, so sweet the words 
That show we’re welcome, when the door sill’s 
past, 

When entering the presence of our friend, 

And she exclaims, “You’ve come at last, at 
last!” 


A welcome so spontaneous, and so fresh 
Must hold us ever by a link made fast. 

Glad fall the friendly words upon our ears— 
“You’ve come to us, you’re really here at last’” 

Doubting our faith at times, if love be firm; 

Doubting are we if our arrival cast 
Regret or gladness o’er those friends we see 
Awaiting us, but now we know—“At last!” 


AND OTHER POEMS 


143 


So shall it be in some far distant time, 

When we thro’ all this troublous Life have 
passed. 

An Angel voice shall say in tones sublime, 

“Ah, now you’ve come at last, dear one, at lastt” 

THE LOVE OF GOLD 

Deliver us from the love of gold, 

And draw our timid hearts up higher. 

What! Shall the story be re-told 
Of greed that fills the heart’s desire? 

Shall he who offered up himself, 

And made the land ring with each deed 

Succumb to thoughts of earthly pelf, 

To such temptation gives he heed? 

What noble thoughts the War produced! 

What heroes sprang from every side! 

Say, shall their minds be now seduced 
With love of wealth that cannot bide? 

Nay! rather dash it to the ground, 

And trample it into the sod, 

For a diviner gift we’ve found 
To know that we are Sons of God! 

“JULY” 

0! the long, long summer days. 

When the hot sun’s melting rays 
Pour upon the earth a blaze 
Of scintillating, golden haze, 

And the heat, once come, just stays, 

And we lounge about and laze, 

Almost wondering if it pays 
To indulge in any craze! 

Rather would we sit and gaze 
At the hawthorns and the bays, 

At the red earth’s dried up clays, 

At this glorious summer phase 
Of these halcyon summer days! 


144 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
TO MARION BUNNER 


I have a friend far off, across the Sea, 

Whose face I have not seen—nor heard her voice. 
And yet she knows to make my heart rejoice 
By all the words she pens so gracefully! 

She has not seen me! But she reads my thought. 
The very soul, and the best part of me, 

And so our Friendship grows all quietly 
In devious ways—like Love itself unsought! 

I am not sure that we shall meet on Earth; 

Wide miles of ocean stretch between us here, 

And distance parts—tho’ heart to heart draws near 
In a Communion of sweet Heavenly Birth! 

But this I do believe—for God above 
Our best of Friends is hidden by a Veil, 

And yet full trust in Him doth e’er prevail 
To lift our hearts, and strengthen them with Love! 

That every friend, who sees the best in us 
A treasure is, to value, and hold fast! 

And may be in Eternity at last 

We’ll find perfected there, what started thus! 


THE THRUSH 

How patiently that thrush sits on the lawn 
Out yonder—underneath the pink hawthorn; 

The world to him seems such a strange big thing. 
For truly he was only born this Spring! 

Vast is the Universe in which he’s placed! 

He’s joined a company which long has graced 
The world with sweetest melody and true— 

0 Thrush, teach me to be a Singer too! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


145 


THE CUCKOO 

0, Cuckoo Bird thy well-known voice 
Ne’er fails to make our hearts rejoice 
A sudden cry. “The Spring is born. 

Past for the year the months forlorn! 

’Mid blowing grass and hedgerows sweet, 
Where cowslips pale, and the lambs’ feet 
Are wandering—it’s true! it’s true! 

I’ve also come! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! 

My heart throbs glad! The sound is clear. 
That Cuckoo note I love to hear. 

Again, again, ’twill thrill the air 
With resonant vibrations, where 
All other birds, and men as well. 

Pause just to hear the Cuckoo tell 
Its much loved story. “Here I come 
From some stray unaccustomed home! 
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! All’s well, All’s well! 

The spring is here, ’tis this I tell.” 


THE OPTIMIST 

Of all the people in this world I love 
There is none dearer than the optimist! 

His thoughts seem ever rising up above 
The sorrows of this world—so dark in mist. 

His bright and shining face is like the sun, 
Irradiating cheerful, happy beams, 

And when the sorry tale you tell is done, 

He answers, “Nay! ’Tis better than it seems!” 

% 

His friends are many—they are everywhere; 

They look to him for comfort on the way, 
And in his mind I think he must prepare 
A new and cheering word for every day! 

Whoever saw a dull and darkened sun? 

(Except that day we had a part eclipse!) 
And truly now when all is said and done, 

I’m sure the Sun must be an optimist! 


146 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
NATURE A BOOK 


All Nature is a wond’rous book, 
Where he who runs may read, 

And he, who therein most will look, 
Shall learn with greatest speed! 

Each day, each month we turn a page, 
Which bears a lesson new, 

And as with passing years we age, 
Our thoughts should be more true. 

All Nature is a wond’rous book, 

With pages ever fair— 

Seek you a sheltered, quiet nook, 
And commune with her there! 


SNOW IN MARCH 

A most unwelcome surprise 
Thou gavest to our eyes 

0 snow, on this March morning! 

When the birds should wake to sing. 
And enchant us fluttering. 

Thou givest them cause for mourning! 

O! say what dost thou here 
At this time of the year. 

When Spring should be adorning, 

And pouring out her beauty? 

Methinks ’tis not thy Duty 
Her efforts to be scorning! 

O snow we want thee not! 

Far rather romething hot 
Would help along the flowers! 

And we had called it spring-time, 

The Birds had hoped ’twas Springtime, 
Thou bringest wintry hours! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


147 


CHANGE 

Change is the order of the Universe l 
We change from day to day. 

We look around—Life often is adverse, 

Nothing will with us stay! 

No day but changeth with the rising Sun, 

And each day with the Moon; 

The Stars a different sky each night behold— 

The scene has altered soon 

No clouds remain—the flowers spring and die: 
The trees are varied too. 

Men perish; buildings fall, and ruined lie— • 

The sea’s not always blue! 

Old friends pass on: new ones succeed them here. 
Our plans are altered by 

Fresh circumstance—we meet it with a tear 
Or smile alternately. 

Yet One alone there is, who changeth not— 

He ever doth abide, 

And we can turn to Him, when sad our lot, 

Or if our footsteps slide. 

For He has ordered change, and ’tis His Plan 
This great variety! 

Here in this lovely World, there is no man 
Need feel satiety! 


THE POET 

Sleeping upon his couch the poet lies 
Till dawning day cries to his soul “Arise!” 
Then lured by Phoebus out into the fields, 

He strolls to see what noonday harvest yields. 

Sleeping upon Life’s path a man may be, 

Yet if his soul wakes not her God to see, 

All blindly iliall he pass, and miss the light, 
Which otherwise had made Ibe days so brighl. 


148 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
A VERY HOT DAY 


Slowly, wearily drag the hours beneath the sun’s 
hot ray— 

Another scorching summer sun has poured on 
on us all day 

Its blazing beams, and driven men in crowds 
triumphantly 

To fly before its might, and seek the shade 
where’er it be 

Breathless they toil—the ones who must—under 
the burning sky; 

The sweat from brows is pouring down, and 
w r earily they cry, 

“Yes! we must work—’tis God’s decree—all men 
beneath the sun, 

And suffer must the women, too, until God’s 
Will is done!” 

But in this blazing furnace of life, the dross is 
melted out; 

The Gold is cleansed, and it remains, of this there 
is no doubt. 

So when the sands of life are run, and all the 
tale is told, 

In the crucible remains behind only the purest 
gold— 

Thus tried by fire and melted down, purged from 
all marring dross, 

Cleansed from the sin of selfishness, and taught 
to suffer loss, 

So in this great, great world of God’s the sun may 
shine away, 

But only God’s own _Will shall it accomplish 
here today. 


UNREST 

The War is not over! O! not at all! 

Though the guns may cease to roar. 

There’s a battle raging, where men don’t fall, 
And the fight is nowise o’er. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


149 


There’s a fearful strife betwixt right and wrong 
On the human battlefield, 

Where the forces gather in endless throng, 
Determined not to yield. 

And bosoms swell high, and quick words are 
said 

’Mongst those Brothers who survive. 

Far greater Peace belongs to the dead, 

Than to those still here alive 

So the War in each human heart goes on— 

The Battle ’twixt right and wrong— 

And we hardly shall know which side has won 
’Till ringeth the Evensong. 


A BLADE OF GRASS 

1 sat me down to rest one afternoon 
Upon a wooden bench along the way, 

And every little growing thing around 

There seemed to wish somehow to have its say! 

The flowers spoke of love, and beauty too; 

The tall trees offered a protecting shade! 

The birds in happy freedom sang and flew, 

And all the air astir with music made. 

One blade of grass in such a countless host 
Of other growing grasses at my side, 

Sprinkled with rain-drops, there impressed me 
most, 

And helped to drive depressing thoughts aside. 

Even as is that one small blade of grass 
In this big world so full of beauty rare 
Am I amid a countless multitude 

Of creatures God has made—He knows it’s there. 

And tho’ at times lost and forgotten seems 
One soul amid a world of other souls, 

Yet it is not unnoticed—still of use, 

And shall its part play as the Time unrolls? 


150 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


One sparrow in His sight is precious too. 

God knows and loves each tiny thing He’s made. 
So, thinking, from the seat I then withdrew 
To meet my life again all unafraid! 

TWO DAISIES. 

Two tiny daisies near my door, into the day¬ 
light crept, 

And murmured “’Twas a long, long time, we 
through the Winter slept! 

How pleasant is it ’mid the grass to grow up once 
again, 

To meet the sunshine, and to have our faces 
washed by rain!” 

Two little crimson collars wore these daisies neat 
and white, 

While their fair golden hearts of yellow gleamed 
in the sunlight! 

I almost fancy they were twins, they looked so 
much the same, 

And seemed to have come early here to watch 
the New Spring’s game! 

A ROYAL LADY. 

\ 

There is a story little known I ween, 

Tho’ true—of Mary, England’s noble Queen, 
When as a girl at Richmond Park she dwelt, 

And often in the early morning knelt 
Lowly before God’s Altar, there to take 
The blest Communion, her devotions make. 

A crippled girl came also at that hour, 

And needed help—just some one who had power 
To guide her steps, support her trembling frame, 
When to the Altar steps she humbly came. 

And thus it chanced that our most gracious Queen, 
By other worshippers was often seen, 

Delighted this small service to bestow 
On one who needed it, and suffered so. 

And it became her custom often there 
To meet the invalid, and from her chair 
With kindly thought and arm, support her up 
To where the Holy Bread and Sacred Cup 


AND OTHER POEMS 


151 


Were handed to them both by the same hand— 
So England’s future Queen would humbly stand 
Beside the cripple, helping her each morn— 
They came together by the same hope borne, 
To lift on high their hearts, and hopes upraise, 
Both kneeling at this Service to God’s Praise. 
Methinks that many of her subjects will 
Delight to hear this tale of her, who still. 

Is bent with the good King to help all men, 

And bravely has she filled her part since then. 
Those were the early days of golden youth, 

Their promise has been well fulfilled in sooth. 


TO QUEEN MARY. 

O! joy and rapture unforeseen, 

To think that I should please a Queen! 

To think that any words of mine 
Should cause those kindly eyes to shine! 
On doing good my thoughts were set, 
And not on Grown, or Coronet; 

And yet, my God, who watches o’er 
The richest, and the humble poor, 

Allowed a wreath to fall on me— 

The Laurel wreath of Poesy! 

And I may lay it at the feet 
Of any lofty soul and sweet, 

Who loves the noble and the true 
In life, and so, great Queen, to you 
I sent this humble offering 
On a fair day, in May-time Spring 
And lo! it favour found, and so 
Rejoicing, gratefully I go, 

And thank my Muse for all those words 
“In Summer Songs Among The Birds!” 


TO H. M. 

We wander here ’mid earthly night. 

But thou hast scaled the ramparts bright, 
Which crown the heights that just divide 
Us from those on the other side. 


152 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Their faces to behold again, 

Their radiant graces now made plain, 

Ah! what a dazzling sight must be— 
Those beings in Eternity! 

How joyful there the meeting fair 
Of those who breathe the Heavenly air! 
Our highest bliss would darkness be 
Beside what now awaiteth thee! 

We all seem lost in Earth’s sad mist, 

But thou dost climb the heights sunkist, 
While in the valley we reside— 

A little longer here must bide! 

Still we can lift our thoughts above 
, To where exists that perfect Love, 

And calmly cry, amid our pain, 

Tis certain we shall meet again! 

KINDRED. 

I am one with the birds of the air; 

I am one with the waves of the sea, 

And the Spirit that rules everywhere, 

Knows what secrets they whisper to me! 

I am one with the stars of the night; 

I am one with the clouds as they go, 

And the Moon with her silvery light 
Finds me watching her closely below! 

I am one with the leaves of the trees; 

I am one with the blades of the grass, 

And each zephyr—each swift blowing breeze, 
Tell the union, as onward they pass! 

I am one with the field of the corn. 

And the swift ripening ears of the grain, 
Like a Sun would I shine every morn, 
Bringing joy to the Earth in its pain! 

1 am one with Humanity’s surge 
In the swift rolling cycles of Time, 

And I feel with my Brothers the urge 
Of each fresh inspiration sublime! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


153 


I am one with my Father above, 

For He made me, and I am His child. 

And there's nought can divide from Christ's Love, 
Tho’ to Earth for a time I’m exiled. 

THE DIVINE RADIANCE. 

0 Being Supernal, 

Great Master of Light! 

Thy Word is Eternal, 

Thy Majesty bright 
Enfolds us and holds us 
Beyond all we know— 

We fain would escape it— 

It dazzles us so! 

It radiates splendour, 

And drives off the night; 

O’erwhelms us with grandeur. 

And gladdens our sight. 

Tho’ sorrow may bend us, 

And illness lay low, 

Thy Mercy shall lend us 
New strength as w r e go. 

THY PRESENCE. 

When I come into Thy Presence, all my being 
seems to quake! 

Wild throbs my Heart, with fear I’m shrinking, 
and my knees begin to shake, 

For Thou art so great a Being, I am such a weak¬ 
ly child, 

And the Way is often dark and dreary, long, and 
bleak, and wild. 

Could we but more truly picture, see Thee, Christ 
as now Thou art— 

A compassionate, tender Helper, stooping to each 
stricken heart, 

Full of radiance, grace, and power, knowing 
what our weakness is, 

Sorrowing for all our sorrows, longing for our 
greater bliss. 


154 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Then I think with stronger courage, we should 
tread the Path each day, 

Knowing Thou, our great Example, also hadst to 
tread the Way; 

Hard and sorrowful, and thorny, but with love 
Thou dids’t it tread, 

Triumphing o’er all so greatly, rising even from 
the dead. 

And the Laws of God expounded for our knowl¬ 
edge, for our ken, 

And to humble souls propounded ways for bet¬ 
terment of men. 

Surely then the only way for mortals peace to 
find, and love 

Is to watch this noble Figure living still for us 
above, 

And to follow, humbly seeking that we may His 
servants be. 

Free to serve Him, and adore the One who said, 
“O follow me!” 

A NEW COURSE 

The day is ended. 

Our prayers have blended 
With those of all humanity. 

They have ascended, 

By Angels tended, 

To where all creatures bow the knee. 

And we fold our hands 

With the Spirit Rands, 

Who watch around us every day. 

For from many lands, 

And from distant strands, 

They come to watch us as we pray. 

No need for fearing! 

Let doubts be clearing 
Out of your minds this happy night. 

A new course steering, 

And all hearts cheering, 

We’ll start tomorrow to do the right! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


155 


TOWARDS THE LIGHT 

0! turn your faces ever towards the Light: 

Leave darkness and the gloom of life behind! 
Smile, help to make the world more glad and 
bright: 

Keep cheerfulness and courage in your mind! 

The world has need of all best gifts just now, 
Striving is she towards a higher goal, 

And we must change to higher aims the low. 
And lift towards happiness each struggling 
soul! 

Turn to the Light! and leave the dark behind: 

Ask blessings, and bestow on others too, 

So shall we please the dear God, Who is kind. 
And make Earth Paradise, as we pass through. 


ONE FIGURE 

When the shadows dim are falling 
Round our path, as ends life’s day. 

And we sink exhausted, calling 
For a Helper—a Mainstay— 

O! what Figure meets us, standing 
Clear and bright before our eyes? 

’Tis the glorious Christ commanding— 

He, the Master of the skies! 

When all friends are distant, failing 
To surround, or help at all, 

One there is, whose all-prevailing 
Figure meets our fainting call. 

Work for Him then, daily, children, 

While ye have the strength to do, 

And when powers all desert you, 

Christ will meet and bear you through. 


156 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


HE EVER DOTH ABIDE 
Sonnet 

All things around us change from day to day. 
Yet One there is, who ever doth abide. 

Nor will He let our wav’ring footsteps slide. 
If we turn to Him trustingly alway, 

And on His Mercy all our fond hopes stay. 

Then shall the River of our life here glide 
On happily, the sweet green fields beside. 
And gently lead us His Word to obey! 

Fear not O little Hock, for ’tis His pleasure 
To give you benefits no man can measure, 

And all His Love He would on you outpour. 
Blessing and comforting for evermore! 

His is a Kingly, all-providing State, 

So make petition, do not hesitate 

UPWARD 

Flowing, flying, soaring upward 
Go my thoughts, O God, to Thee, 
Seeking ever for improvement, 

Growing towards Eternity. 

Toiling, agonizing, suffering, 

Stays my body on this Earth, 

Learning from my fellow-beings 
What is their intrinsic worth. 

“Give me freedom, rest, and comfort!” 

Often cry I unto God, 

And he answers, “If ye trust me, 

Lightly then will weigh the Rod!” 

“Light the yoke: my burden easy!” 

Were the Words of One Who knew; 

Yet His enemies would kill Him: 

Him upon the tree they slew. 

Wonder-making, awe- inspiring 
Came His Presence back again— 

"See I live, and love you, children, 

I have died to save all men! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


157 


“Died, and risen—now am Mighty, 
Deathless is the Form I wear; 

Follow Me, and fear not, loved ones, 

Ye also a cross must bear. 

“Ye shall conquer, and receive it, 

Blessed Life Eternal have. 

I am with you always, always, 

Even to the earthly grave. 

“But your Spirit free, immortal, 

Follows Mine to realms above, 

Where a glorious. Mansion’s portal 
Opens out for you in Love!” 

TO-NIGHT 

Angels are watching above thee to-night. 

Ne’er shall Thy Father lose thee from His sight; 
Wander ye may, yet the path will lead back, 
Devious and winding, but still to the track. 

Angels are watching and guiding thy ways; 

Fear not to thank them, and ever to praise. 
Unseen by thine eyes, still their Presence is near 
Thoughts of their friendship shall comfort and 
cheer. 

Fear not though darkness spread over thy light; 
Care not if dim and bewildered thy sight, 

All will be well, when the morning returns, 

And through the darkness a new sunrise burns. 

THOU SEEST ME 

Thou seest me! When all the world has gone 
Away, and darkness covers wide the land, 

And I in solitude am left alone, 

There still is One the heart to understand! 

There still is One whose ever watchful eye 
Is o’er those places dark, where I must tread, 
Who says, “Dear child, unto Thy God draw nigh, 
And Angels shall protect thee overhead! 


158 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Strange trials new, and unexpected rise 
Upon my path, all unforeseen each day. 

My heart is wounded, and my startled eyes 
Look out upon a drear, and saddened way! 

Best friends are stricken low, and illness comes, 
And darkness broods upon the newborn day, 
For desolation reigns in many homes, 

But Conscience whispers softly, “Let us pray!” 

“Thou seest me!” tho’ falls the darksome night, 
While stars and shadows both look from above! 
And knowing all is well within Thy sight, 

That Thou wilt guide, 1 yield me unto Love! 


PAIN 

Whene’er we wander from th’ accustomed path, 
We must reap suffering as an aftermath. 
Straight is the path, and narrow is the way 
That leads us up to Everlasting Day! 

Pain speaks in a mysterious undertone. 

But if we lie quite still and make no moan. 

She pours celestial wisdom on our hearts, 

From which a fount of healing often starts! 


ONE MORNING 

O morning of fulfilment rich and rare! 

The dawn on which my Love will come to me! 
With rapture I behold the sunshine fair, 

The verdant green on every budding tree. 

The sky is clear; the air is full of sound 
With gentle noise of Birds and Lambs around! 

O morning in my heart, how calm art thou! 
How still and peaceful all is and serene! 

I wait with expectation on my brow, 

And happiness mixed in with hope between. 
My Nature, and God’s Nature all in one, 

Are harmonizing in sweet undertone. 


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159 


One little flock of Birds by hedgerow sweet 
Rise scattering apart into the air. 

My thoughts like them are rising fast to meet 
Thy thoughts, and speech would fain express them 
where 

In too great numbers they surpass all words! 
Ah! yes, they do resemble flocks of Birds! 


OUR GLORIOUS DEAD 

They come in phalanxes of light 
To watch us from afar! Our dark Earth night 
Seems something they are glad to leave behind, 
For now they see so clearly. We are blind 
To half the glories, which their happy souls 
Enjoy from day to day, as on time rolls. 

And waiting just till we can join them there. 

They breathe for us, and with us, many a prayer. 

Our Glorious Dead! 

But 0 mistaken word!—there is no Death! 
Passing from here in moments quick as breath, 
They find themselves within the Realms of God; 
They leave an outworn frame upon the sod, 

To meet a strength supreme and perfect too— 

A living ecstasy, that’s more than you 
Or I can ever realize on this Earth, 

For they have passed beyond to Heavenly Birth, 

Our Glorious Dead! 

And as they backward gaze at Earth’s sad star, 
Like blessing and caressing, words from far 
Come to us, borne from Spirit Life beyond, 
Triumphant echoes of their love so fond. 

“We are not dead! We live, and still are near! 
Open your minds to perfect Heavenly cheer. 

We see you and your hearts shall yet rejoice!” 
Falls thus upon our ears a soothing voice. 

O Glorious Dead! 


160 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


HOW BEAUTIFUL IS LIFE. 

How beautiful is life, when every hour 
Is filled with some new joy! Some fragrant flower 
Springs on the path, and we may gather it 
Unhindered by a sad and troubled spirit, 

While all untouched is yet the silver cord, 

The golden bowl not broken by discord, 

Nor marred by too much contact with the strife— 

How beautiful is life l 

How beautiful is life, when Love’s young dream 
Is not yet shattered by the things that seem 
Unconquerable, as we older grow 
When difficulties throng about us so. 

For illness, sorrow, death—all shake our lives, 

And us of sweetest solace oft deprives, 

When youthful joys still seem on all sides rife— 

How beautiful is life f 

How beautiful is life, when Christ draws near, 
And bids our trembling hearts be of good cheer. 
And we can lay our sorrows in the dust. 

Before Him—leaving them, indeed we must, 

If we would travel ever on the Way 

That leads to brighter things—to brighter Day, 

And win the prize He gives—Immortal Life— 

How beautiful that life! 

UPON THE HEIGHTS. 

“Yonder upon the Heights He walks!” they said, 
And I with eager longing raised my head 
To see if I perchance might see that face, 
Beauteous and peaceful, radiant with all grace, 

Of which so often in the past I’d thought, 

And prayed and worshipped—followed after— 
sought. .... 

It seemed elusive—something came between, 

And always some new prospect of Earth’s scene 
O’ershadowed that for which I’d keenly craved— 
To see the Saviour’s form, the One who saved, 
Nor have I yet achieved that longed for thing— 

To gaze upon the face of Christ, my King! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
TO-DAY. 


161 


To-day is mine! Far down the coming years 
I look to see—they may be full of tears, 

But just this little space of time—to-day— 

Is mine to make it what I can and may! 

The Will of God through me to manifest, 

To see that all around me here are blest 
With joy and peace—that is my work to-day, 
To show full trust, all murmurings to stay. 

To walk, to talk, to think and act, and do 
As always in God’s Presence, this for you 
And me is occupation quite enough! 

I do not think we’ll find this pathway rough! 


UNITY OF NATIONS 

There dwells in us a spirit all God-given, 

A something greater than we know or ken; 

The Soul has come to earth from highest Heaven; 
The Spirit leaves its God to dwell with men. 

One Father—One Creator—One Almighty 
Maker of Earth—Ancient of Days—a King— 

A ruler of the Universe, and Mighty 
Is He who madeth every living thing! 

And we his children are—His own Creation, 

Far dwellers over every land and sea. 

Like brothers should be every separate nation, 
And all to one great Spirit bow the knee. 

Down with dissension!- Cut out sore divisions! 
Remember all humanity’s descent, 

And let high hopes, and prayers, and ideal visions 
With daily duties, and with toil be blent. 

Remember that we sons of God are truly 
One Father made, and knows and loves us all 
Then let us live and thank Him righty, duly, 

And worship Him—all creatures great and small. 


162 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
AT THE FOUNTAIN 


At the Fountain I at the Fountain 

Come, 0 friends, renew your strength, 
Ere you try to scale the mountain— 

Ere the valley shows at length 

Come where grace and dews refreshing 
Comfort every striving soul, 

As it onward goes progressing. 

Daily nearer to its goal. 

What that Goal is? Who shall tell us 
What and where it may be found? 
Onward, fellows, you will know it 
When your feet touch holy ground. 

To be Christians in all fulness, 

To develop Christlike lives— 

Such the Goal, O comrades, standing 
On ahead for him who strives 

And one mighty, loving Teacher 
An Example sets to all, 

And there is no Name save Jesu’s, 

Which perfection doth recall. 

So be constant, and be working 
Every day to follow Him. 

No hard task or sorrow shirking; 

Keep your lamps from growing dim. 


SOWING AND REAPING 

O, magic words! that speak a truth, 
Which we see carried out in sooth, 
Through all our daily living here 
Through times of sadness or of cheer. 

When little actions, done with care, 
Return in gladness everywhere, 

And yesterday’s small, loving thought 
Reveals, today, its harvest brought! 


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163 


That letter which in haste we penned, 

Today hath reached a saddened friend, 

And from her eye a glistening tear 

She wipes, and murmurs, “Thank you, dear!” 

The book lent to a studious reader, 

For highest Truth becomes a pleader 
A magazine, or paper too, 

May carry something fresh and new! 

The fragrant flower, the luscious fruit 
An invalid may please and suit. 

The song inscribed in silent hour, 

May speak unto some soul with power! 

A bit of sewing done in love, 

A thought of gratitude shall move, 

And when we speak a tender word 
Be sure in Heaven it is heard, 

While He, Who knew of life down here, 
And loved to heal or dry a tear, 

And wished to make no creature weep,— 
Said, “As ye sow, so shall ye reap!” 

HALF ON EARTH AND HALF IN HEAVEN 

Half on Earth and half in Heaven, 

Live we here to day, 

For to live like this is given 
To our earthly clay. 

Mortal man nuust tread the pathway 
While he sojourns here, 

But his Spirit o’er the roadway 
Soars in Freedom clear. 

Mixture he of man and angel, 

Striving to become 
Perfect through the great Evangel 
Ere he is called Home. 

He must join the ever swelling 
Pilgrims of the Road, 

For the Earth is no fit dwelling 
For the Sons of God 


164 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Yet within us, and without us 
Heaven rules o’er all. 

Hearken! while the Spirit calls us! 
God is Love to all! 


THE ALTAR AT HOME 

Make for the Lord within your heart a shrine; 
Build there an Altar; let the candles shine 
By day and night, for Christ is ever near, 
Watching thy struggle, little one, down here. 

And if within a Church thou canst not pass 
To kneel there at the Altar for the Mass— 

The sweet Communion Supper of the Lord, 

Know that ’tis written in His precious Word 
That neither life, nor death, nor depth, nor height 
Can separate us from the Love and Light 
Of Jesus Christ, Who died that we might live— 
So fear not, nor repine, but rather give 
Thy utmost strength to filling His behest, 

The hungry feed; succour the poor! So best 
His will upon the aching earth be done, 

And all men happy made beneath the Sun! 

GOD EVERYWHERE 

I am not limited by time or space, 

But count each day a thing apart—my own, 
The time to show the world a smiling face, 

And draw a little nearer to God’s Throne! 

I know that pitfalls lurk on either side, 

That we must seek to tread the Narrow Way, 

But Conscience stands to warn us and to chide, 
And Angels whisper softly, “Watch and pray!” 

There is no end to what we may achieve! 

Eternity itself exists to hold 
The heavenly gifts, which we may yet receive, 

And Love, itself, each being doth enfold. 

God everywhere—around—within—without! 

God permeating the whole Universe! 

So joyfully arise and cast off doubt. 

No dull despair within your bosom nurse. 


AND OTHER POEMS 
DISCOURAGEMENT 


165 


Just in Thy Way, O Lord, 

So would I have it be 
Whatever Thou dost choose, 

Is surely best for me! 

At times, our hearts refuse; 

At times our wills grow slack. 

But Thy Influence divine 
Brings all best feelings back. 

How wayward is our thought! 

How weak and wavering too! 

We must needs oft be brought 
To resolution new. 

0! when shall we improve, 

And ever steadfast grow?— 

Not till Thy Perfect Love 
Doth raise us from below. 

When we behold Thy Son, 

With shame we shall recall 
How often in despair, 

And sinning we did fall! 

Still patience, 0 Lord, must 
Thou have with every child 
Thou knowest we arc dust, 

And by the earth defiled. 

We long and wish to be 
More perfect every one. 

But oh! how frail are we, 

And how unlike Thy Son. 

Yet thro’ Thy Perfect Love 
We courage take and rise 
Onward again to move 
Towards “Mansions in the Skies!” 



166 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


TO CANON DICKINS 
Entered into Rest, 30th January, 1919. 

He was a friend to many, and we all 
Must mourn his loss. He was to great and small 
A comfort, and thoughts of his presence kind 
Will dwell in memory of many a mind 

His gentle heart was both child -like and great. 
He knew to sit in dignity and state 
In a cathedral, or a church adorn; 

He comforted the friendless and forlorn. 

In cottages he was a welcome guest; 

Full many a good parishioner he blest, 

And now he goes to take a well- earned rest! 
Peace be with him ! He was one of our best. 


PATIENCE 

If I might ever choose some virtue fair 
To make my own—some gift from Paradise. 
Where all the virtues live in God’s pure eyes, 
Methinks for Patience I should mostly care, 

And ask that she, with condescension rare, 
Should come to make a dwelling, nor despise 
My humble mind, for there, without disguise, 
She might reign puissantly, and flout despair I 

“Her perfect work!” brave Patience, is so grand 
That only he can know and understand, 

Who has a lodging given at some time 
To her, and folded her within his breast, 

Where she in quiet beauty, seeking rest. 

Has cast for him a model all sublime! 


SUCCESS 

What is success? Is it to heap up gold, 

To ride in state above one’s fellow men, 

To see the passing years successive rolled 
Up into more than three score years and ten? 


AND OTHER POEMS 


167 


Is it to burn the midnight oil in work, 

Writing, or wresting secrets from the Earth? 

Or wandering unseen, where shadows lurk, 

To take from other men something of worth? 

Is it to flaunt in splendid gay attire, 

Bejewelled and admired by a crowd? 

Ah I no, such things are all but a satire, 

And so are praises sung too much aloud. 

To rise up early with the morning Sun, 

To stroll at will among the happy fields, 

To see what God hath there in Nature done, 

To count the riches that the Harvest yields, 

To bear a happy smile upon the face, 

To cheer another with a helpful word, 

To comfort weaker brothers in disgrace, 

To drop a tear when hearts are inly stirred, 

To do each day a little deed that’s kind, 

To fall asleep with hopeful, trusting prayer, 

To keep untouched pure inocence of mind, 

To know that someone loves us, and will care 

To see us come within their open door, 

To hear our name spoken with tenderness- 

All these small things—and yes!—a thousand more 
Would seem to me to make life a success. 

TRAVELLING 

01 get me my trunk, and my satchel, fair maid, 
For I must away, and away. 

In the chill grey of morning, “Goodbye” must be 
said 

By the light of a dark winter’s day I 

For I would be starting to travel along, 

A journey by railway to make, 

And while I’m away, I shall write you a song— 
Some description of mountain or lake! 

So hurry! my satchel, fair maiden, I pray 
The very next train I would catch, 

And while I’m afar, just keep watch o’er your 
heart, 

Lest someone from you it might snatch! 


168 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
O MOTHER BROWN-EARTH 


Earth’s mighty bosom, heaving every day 
To her children giving nourishment and play, 
Broad, broad lands, and green fields I seem to see, 
Stretching before me, like a boundless sea! 

O Mother Brown-Earth, wonderful art thou! 
Whirling ’mid spaces, stars around thy brow; 

Say, in the future shall we always see 
Thee separate standing in Eternity? 

Or wilt thou merged and submerged be 
By some vast boundless wave of tidal sea? 

O Mother Brown- Earth, we have thee to -day; 

God knows to-morrow! More we cannot say! 

So let us work on, laugh and toil with glee; 

Like all young children, nourished by thee; 

In the far future we may gaze and see 
Thee from our new life in Eternity! 

A SNOWSTORM 

Hundreds and thousands of little white flakes 
Coming slowly to earth! the sight of you makes 
Us rejoice and compare your soft flight thro* the 
air 

To the blessings which come to us precious and 
rare, 

From our Father in Heaven; so quickly they fall, 
We scarcely can count them or realize at all 
Their number—or value—our thanks are so poor— 
We surely shall sit one day shamed at Heaven’s 
door! 

All glistening and white, all sparkling and soft, 
To our enchanted sight, they descend from aloft. 
They cover the earth with a soft cloud of white, 
They dazzle our eyes and bewilder our sight. 

Oh! look at the trees turning whiter and whiter, 
Dark patches of earth growing lighter and brigh¬ 
ter. 

What charm to the landscape! what grace to th» 
land, 

Oh! welcome, fair Snowstorm, your advent is 
grand! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
SUNRISE 


169 


Pearly rose, and cloudlets grey, 

Herald the approach of Day I 
Blackest night has fled away— 

Light has come once more to stay! 

See, the rain ceased in the Night! 

Floods and torrents—what a sight! 
Welcome once more brilliant light. 

Cheer us up and make us bright! 

Blue and lovely are the skies! 

Birds sing out arise! arise! 

And with new hope in our eyes, 

Once more we greet the Sunrise. 

A NOVEMBER GALE 

The Gale is blowing fast and strong, 

Just see the clouds they rush along! 

There’s scarce a leaf left on the trees! 
They’ve vanished in this Autumn breeze. 

A rush, a whirl goes thro’ the air, 

And such a whistling everywhere, 

A perfect orgie of wild riot. 

Alas! for those who long for quiet! 

Yellow, and brown, the leaves fly down, 

The fir trees with majestic frown. 

In coats of rich, dark, lasting green, 

Cry, “Such a havoc ne’er was seen.” 

“Just look at all those silly trees! 

Can’t even keep their leaves to please 
Themselves in winter! Now they’re bare! 
Our coats are made of stuff more rare.” 

And so the Gale smiles and goes on, 

With air-pressure of many a ton! 

Right thro’ the town, and out beyond, 

To rough the surface of a pond 

Which lies outside the paved streets, 

Just where our town the country meets. 
Further than that we cannot say 
What damage this Gale does to-day! 


170 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


THE BROOK 

Flowing clear, and limpid ever, 

Over pebbly stones, 

Down to join the mighty river, 

And the sea which moans! 

Gurgling, running in the sunlight, 

To the coast it goes! 

Flow on, tiny stream, and run right 
Past the pale wild rose! 

Thro’ the meadows, and the grasses. 
On beyond the weir, 

To the right, the white road passes, 
But thy course is clear! 

Thirsty cattle, flying birdlings, 

Of thy wealth may drink. 

On a branch above the thrush sings 
Sheep stand on thy brink! 

Everywhere refreshing coolness 
Thy waters impart! 

Even so God’s mighty fulness 
Comforts every heart! 


THE TWINS 

Two lovely maidens all in white 
Were sitting on a lawn, 

Yet in their hearts a gleam of spite 
Made them both feel forlorn! 

Both loved the selfsame man you see 
And it was awkward too, 

For they had lived most happily 
Until he came in view! 

Returning from the War last year, 

He with some friends had stayed 
Quite near to them, and it is clear 
He flirted with each maid! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


171 


So while he lingered there, this man. 
Had played with both the twins. 

Not knowing which was which, he ran 
The risk of many sins! 

At times ’twas Rose he loved the best, 
But when he knew Anne too 

He saw fresh charms, and felt so blest, 
He really loved the two! 

But this was awkward for, you know, 
He could not wed the twain. 

So when the time came he should go 
He left them both with pain, 

Saying he hoped that he should see 
Them very soon again. 

And left them wishing secretly 
That they had not been twain 

So Rose and Anne together sat, 

Each wondering in thought 

What the result had been, if that 
Fine officer had sought 

The hand of one, and wedded her. 
Leaving a twin forlorn. 

A slight resentment it did stir 
To be so doubly born! 

A letter came at last, it ran. 

In words something like this 

“Oh, lovely Rose, and dearest Anne, 
Wish me some wedded bliss! 

“I am engaged to one fair maid. 

And we shall married be 

Quite soon! I met her when I stayed 
At Westgate by the Sea! 

Tis she alone my heart can hold 
In single, faithful fee. 

For, beauteous twins, now be it told 
You always perplexed me 


172 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


“With double loveliness, and rent 
My doubting heart in two, 

For when to woo sweet Rose I bent, 

Then Anne would sprang to view. 

“Twas thus I fled, before ye twain, 

To Westgale by the Sea, 

And there I learned to love again, 

So with termerity 

“Proposed myself, and now next week 
We both shall married be. 

Adieu, O Twins! I here must seek 
To close with brevity 

“To say Farewell I am quite loth, 

But oh, sweet Rose, and Anne, 

You see I could not wed you both, 

Therefore I turned and ran!” 

THE STREET LAMP 

I’m only an old street lamp, but I’ve seen strange 
things in my time. 

If you will listen awhile to me I’ll put them into 
rhyme. 

The things that happen beneath my light would 
make you laugh, and go 

Smiling, and wondering how on earth can people 
behave so! 

One night—’twas just before Christmas—I remem¬ 
ber well enough, 

The snow was laying about in heaps: the wind 
blew keen and rough: 

And a soldier dressed in khaki paused, just there 
within my glow. 

He whistled, and smoked a cigarette, as he paced 
to and fro! 

“Why tarries the girl?” he whispered low. “What 
can have come to pass? 

I hope her Dad has not found out, and refused to 
let the lass 

Come out to say ‘Good- bye’ to- night, ere I sail 
across the sea!” 

He stamped his feet in the melting snow, shifting 
uneasily. 


173 


AND OTHER POEMS 

But she came—they met—and their eyes were wet: 
they spoke of love again. 

The soldier must go, he kissed her so—to say 
“Goodbye” was pain 

I saw it all, for I am so tall, there, in the melting 
snow, 

Though it break the heart, lovers must part, an C 
street lamps give their glow! 

Another night—the rain had ceased, and a woman 
came along, 

Something wrapped up in her arms she bore- 
apart from the crowded throng: 

A baby sweet (I could see its feet) she hugged, and 
laid it down, 

With many a tear she called it “Dear,” then hast¬ 
ened back to town! 

A stranger, passing, picked up the babe, and pity 
touched his heart! 

“Come, little one, some heart of stone has left you, 
I’ll take your part!” 

With loving hands, he removed the bands that 
bound, and going slow 

Out of my sight, away from my light, these two 
passed from my glow! 

A man with a sack upon his back, and stealthy 
creeping feet, 

Laid his booty there, ’twas stolen ware—silver 
from down the street! 

I watched him with glee, he did not see the police 
close up behind! 

Soon he was grabbed, and his treasure nabbed—a 
sad shock to his mind! 

Ah, yes, I could tell some stories well, of things 
that I have seen. 

By light of my glow, at evening so, and nothing in 
between! 

Only myself and humanity, stars, and the raging 
sea! 

The wind that blows is the one that knows what 
strange sights come to me! 


174 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


THE ORPHAN 

A tiny mite with outstretched hands—and face 
Looking at us with a beseeching grace. 

See here this child, she is a heritage 
Left to humanity! Upon the page 
Of History her father wrote his name, 

I'ho’ not emblazoned in a scroll of fame; 

He none the less made the great sacrifice, 

And nobly fell. So should not this suffice 
To earn our gratitude, who stayed at home 
In comfort, nor were called upon to roam 
The seas, or pass to foreign lands abroad, 

To shed our blood amid the fighting horde! 

Before he left, her soldier father said, 

“I leave to England all I have. When dead 
My will can be remembered—short and true! 
The life, O country! which I give to you, 

And my most precious treasure I bequeathe 
Into your care! It is this child! I breathe 
A prayer to God, and, England, ah! to you— 

Take care of her, and rear her that she, too, 

May worthy grow—her share of good to do. 

In this world’s sordid, strange—sometimes sad— 
—race 

See that she has a not too grievous place!” 

Now we behold her, and the melting touch 
Of pity stirs our hearts—for many such 
As she in France and England may be found. 

And where they tread it should be holy ground. 
Let us approach with reverence, and confess 
Tt is our simple duty just to bless 
Them with the things all needful in this life, 
Whose fathers gave themselves in the late strife! 

No War Memorial would better please 
Our fallen heroes than that lambs like these 
Should be provided for, and cared, and kept— 
Dear orphans--treasures of the men who wept. 
And toiled, and sutTered fearful agony, 

?hat we might live in peace and liberty! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
THE CHANDELIER 


175 


As I was going down the street, 

One morning in the Spring -time sweet, 
I chanced to see within a shop, 

A chandelier which had a drop 
Of crystal pendants, hanging down— 

A striking object in the town! 

Each lovely crystal seemed to show 
A tiny rainbow here below, 

The light, reflected in the glass, 

Was iridescent. I did pass 

Before this shop three times that morn 

The third ’twas gone! I felt forlorn! 

My curiosity was piqued. 

Thought I, “Some customer has eked 
Out his supply of gas, no doubt, 

By buying candles, and without 
A chandelier they are no good, 

So he bought this, ’tis understood!” 

I stepped within the shop to see. 

If anyone therein might be, 

Who more could tell me of this thing, 
And if the article would bring 
A good high price, for it looked rare— 

A chandelier without compare! 

The girl said, '‘Oh! I saw you pass, 
And look intently at the glass 
In our fine old chandelier— 

Yes! we’ve sold it—it was not dear! 

“The fact is, that where’er it goes, 

That chandelier perplexes those 
Who purchase it, and it comes back 
To us! It has a curious knack 
Of falling down in any hall 
Or chamber where its placed—that’s all! 

“My Lady of the Grange, she bought 
It once, and certainly she thought, 

‘I have a treasure! ’tis not dear, 

This most artistic chandelier! 

And it shall grace my drawing -room, 
And there illuminate the gloom!’ 


176 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


“Soon after that she gave a dance! 

The shaking of the floor, perchance, 

Achieved this most unusual thing, 

But with a dash, and crash, and ring. 

The lights descended to the floor, 

And all the dancers gave a roar! 

“The next to purchase it, Sir Mike 
Of Arbroath Hall wrote us: ‘I like 
That chandelier so very much 
I bought of you, but truly such 
A sad disaster happened when 

I gave a feast for hunting-men— 

The chandelier came down—a fall— 

And frightened us; so will you call 
And take it to your shop again? 

I’m nervous of it, and that’s plain!’ 

“Once more a lady purchased it, 

The wife of Admiral De Wit. 

She’d only had it just a week, 

When in a hurry she did seek 
Us out, and said, ‘Pray! will you call 
To-morrow at my house? A Ball 

“I gave last night. The chandelier 
I bought from you (it was not dear!), 

But it has fallen to the floor. 

And we can’t have it any more, 

For fear this thing should chance again. 

So dangerous, it can’t remain!” 

“And now it’s gone to Lady B. 

And we are waiting just to see 
If anything will happen there! 

We packed and sent it off with care! 

We hope it won’t fall down again. 

It’s so uncanny, and that’s plain!” 

Two days went by, when I did pass 
Down that same street where hung the glass 
Of iridescent lovely hue, 

With the strange story! Now can you 
Believe what caused me there to stop? 

That chandelier hung in the shop! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
LADDERS 


177 


What do I see in the Heavens above? 

Ladders of Light! Yes, and Ladders of Love! 
Reaching down to the Sons of Men, 

For them to climb upon, and then, 

Up to the heights they will go in shoals, 
Rejoicing—and climbing—all His Souls! 

Ladders of Gold 

For brave and bold 

Who dare to mount the sky! 

Ladders of wood 
For all who could 
But are afraid to try! 

Ladders of steel 

For those who feel 

Their work is waiting there! 

Ladders of iron 
For every scion 
Of lineage rich and rare! 

Ladders of Air 

For such as care 

Only for things of earth, 

They cannot rise,— 

Their half shut eyes 

Keep them from Heavenly birth! 

Ladders of every kind I see 
Rising to God—from Land and Sea! 

Climb on them, Mortals, daily climb, 

Ceasing never, for passing Time 
Carries us all along above, 

To Him who awaits us with Welcoming Love! 

ROBIN’S ARRIVAL 

Oh! you darling little Robin, 

I see you upon my table, 

Picking up the biscuit crumbs 
Just as fast as you are able! 

You have come a little early, 

For the Winter is not yet, 

But the sight of you is cheery, 

And it helps us to forget. 

Other sorrows of the season, 

Which to all is full of woes, 


178 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


With ourselves we fain would reason. 

Saying that with Winter’s snows 
Joy will come again t» many, 

And we know that we shall see 
Great rejoicing as our Armies 
Daily tread towards Victory! 

BUTTERFLIES 

I will arise! I will arise! 

And sing a song of Butterflies! 

I love their little shiny wings, 

I like to see them light on things, 

In garden or in leafy wood, 

On flower or stalk, I really should 
Think that they’d be afraid of rain. 

Lest it should spoil their wings again! 

Fluttering, sailing to the sky, 

There goes a lovely Butterfly! 

0, stay, fair creature! Let me see 
You come much closer up to me. 

I long to gaze on those fair wings, 

Such as to you the Summer brings! 

‘Tis sweet to see you on the Roses, 

Or sipping honey from the Posies. 

I love to watch you fall and rise. 

Gay, many coloured Butterflies! 

THE SMILE 

She smiled!—The world for me was lit with joy! 
She frowned!—I feared, and trembled lest annoy 
Of cruel sort had troubled that sweet mind 
Which to the world in general showed most kind! 

I wandered up and down the street one day. 
Earth was but earth—mankind were mostly clay. 
And all seemed dull and dreary for awhile 
Until at last I met my sweetheart’s smile! 

The Universe was changed and full of hope! 

New thoughts sprang to my brain My eyes did 
ope 

To see that after all we’re meant for bliss! 

She smiled!—I captured that smile with a kiss! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
THE GIPSY KING 


179 


It is the story of a Gipsy King 

Which I to you, my readers kind, would sing! 

A man of high intelligence and travel. 

Round whom this curious tale chanced to unravel. 

His name, Lavengro, and his swarthy mien 
Might rival that of any Gipsy Queen! 

He had no wife, but yet he longed to have 
A daughter, and for her would gladly save, 

And gather up into a goodly pile 
His riches in the usual gipsy style! 

Which generally consists of jewelry, 

Gold rings, and precious stones, or what may be! 

One year Lavengro had a curious tale 
To tell his subjects who ne’er dared to fail 
In due respect of him, their chosen King, 

To whom they often brought an offering! 

He showed them a pearl necklace quaint and rare, 
In size and lustre few gems would compare, 

And one big black pearl in the centre made 
This necklace quite unique. Lavengro said 

That he was passing down a country lane 
When something hard against his foot caused pain, 
And stooping down he found this necklace there 
And seized it with great joy, knowing it rare, 

“So now,” said he unto his subjects all, 

“When I shall bring you home a daughter small 
And rear her as my child to be your Queen, 

This necklace she shall have! Tis right I ween.” 

Some months elapsed before the deed was done! 
Lavengro stole a child, at set of Sun. 

The nurse had left her standing by the gate 
Of a great house, one evening rather late, 

Just while she went to say a word or two 
To some person within whom well she knew! 
When she returned the baby girl was gone, 

And desolation reigned there in that home! 


180 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Years came and went, the child grew up most fair. 
She travelled with Lavengro everywhere. 
Sometimes they strolled across the fields of 
France! 

Sometimes in Spain would watch the gipsies dance! 

Or even see a Bull-fight, view the Ring 
The Bulls and Matadors—a fearful thing! 

Greatly Lavengro loved this stolen child— 

The thought of losing her would make him wild. 

When eighteen years over her head had rolled 
Presents of jewelry and lovely gold 
Ornaments were presented by the tribe, 

Who wished their King’s good favour well to bribe: 

While he himself produced the splendid Pearls, 
And laid them on her neck, stroking her curls 
“Take this my child!” he cried with some just 
pride, 

“And wear it till the day you’re made a bride.” 

On the next day a Bull-fight they would grace. 
Ushers found them at once a goodly place, 

And there the maiden sat, for all to see, 

Wearing the necklace of great rarity! 

Then presently a wondrous thing befell! 

I scarcely can find words wherewith to tell 
The strange coincidence now brought to light, 

As King Lavengro watched the great Bull-fight. 

A Spanish Countess, happening to pass 
Before them, lifted up her l/orgnette glass, 

And saw the necklace with its huge black pearl 
Hanging around the white throat of the girl! 

“Why there,” she cried, in great amazement loud, 
Before the wondering and astonished crowd, 

“Is my pearl necklace, lost oh! long ago, 

Full eighteen years since, and full well I know 

“It by the Black Pearl in the centre, placed 
There by my husband when his house I graced 
As a young bride, and his Gift was to me 
That necklace fair of such great rarity! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


181 


4 T lost it in my wanderings oft from home, 

And in the following year worse luck did come, 
My husband died, my baby girl was lost, 

And stolen, so I have been tempest tost I” 

A sympathetic crowd shouted in tones 
Of anger, “Give again to her who owns 
The Necklace, and relinquish the black pearl I” 
They tore it from the bare neck of the Girl. 

“Perhaps,” Lavengro cried, now greatly moved, 
"‘This too may be the baby that you loved 1 
For I stole her some eighteen years ago, 

To be my daughter! Look upon her! Lo, 

“Countess, she certainly resembles you, 

And if this thing so wonderful prove true, 
Necklace and child I lose ere set of Sun, 

It is God’s will, and justice must be done.” 

The Countess gazed and gazed, upon the maid 
Emotion shook her, but she nobly said, 

“Lavengro, you shall keep the child you love! 

She hardly knows me, and I cannot prove 

‘That she is mine, and even if ’tis so 
I shall not separate you like a foe, 

For it is plain the M*id loves you as Father, 

And doubtless to remain with you would rather! 

"But I will take the necklace as I go 
Away from here—for he who loved me so 
Desired me to find it, ere he died, 

It was his only present to his Bride!’ 

Lavengro clasped his child, and said to her, 

“Give back the Pearls, my darling, I aver 
You are a pearl of greater price than all 
The world holds of such gems, both great and 
small.” 

And so the Gipsy King kept his best treasure, 

He lavished love upon her without measure, 

And when he grew infirm, and dwelt alone, 

The maid succeeded to her Father’s throne. 


182 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


THE NEED OF POETRY IN THE WORLD 

The world is nourished by its poesy! 

The little child upon its mother’s knee 
First lisps those words, familiar all to thee, 

“I lay me down to sleep.” O Mother, see 
That its small brain begins the truth to hold 
Enwrapped in magic sentences of gold. 

Sweet rhymes, and words of comfort for its woe 
Shall cheer it on the pilgrimage below 

The youth, who loves and woos a maiden fair. 
Addresses her with sonnets if he dare, 

And praises all her charms in poesy; 

Such joy to both of them—this melody! 

He proud to think his thoughts run into verse; 

She rapt with wonder at expressions terse, 

Which seem to make her all at once supreme, 

A fitting subject for a poet’s dream 

The striving man upon life’s battlefield, 

Determined he will rather die than yield. 
Encourages his strength with thoughts so rare. 
Some motto that suggests he “do and dare;” 

Some precept clothed in fair majestic rhyme, 

May rescue him from deep despair in time. 

The old man sings his hymns with happiness; 

He recognizes power to soothe and bless, 

Within the folded page of some small book— 

His favorite poet—he often takes a look 
For joy and solace, if the hours prove long, 

And there refreshes all his soul with song. 

Ch, fear not. Poet, you shall live again 
From year to year in grateful hearts of men, 

Who turn to you for comfort at all times; 

So do not hesitate, but make your rhymes. 


OF GRIEF 

Grief came to me with both her hands stretched 
out 

I said, “Begone!” For I do greatly doubt 

If joy for me is not the better part 

And she shall fill the best of all my heart. 


AND OTHER POEMS 
AT A GRAVESIDE 


1«3 


“What makes you think that he is here?” I said 
to one who wept— 

“Tho’ falling rain and tempests wild over this 
grave have swept, 

Only his bones rest here, for the spirit which 
never dies 

Found its true home long ago, in Gardens of Para¬ 
dise!” 

“Oh! stay not to weep by a grave, when his splen¬ 
did spirit lives, 

Make ready to join him again: the Heavenly 
Father gives 

Us years of time on earth here, not to mourn, but 
to prepare 

To join again our loved ones, and their perfect 
bliss to share! 

“Look on the lives around you, and seek to lighten 
their pain, 

Cast aside all tears and mourning; speak cheerful 
words again 

The Resurrection waiteth not for some far distant 
morn— 

The soul that dies, on earth, at once to a new life 
is born! 

“A garment of glistening whiteness, the Angels 
cast around: 

Your dear one has risen to brightness—he is not in 
the ground! 

What folly to linger, and suffer hopeless grief by 
the grave, 

When he whom Our Loving Saviour came down to 
die for and save 

Is living, rejoicing, and happy—leading a life more 
true, 

Watching, and helping, and praising, and he’s 
always loving you.” 


184 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 
TO SCOTLAND 


Fair Scotland! so bonny, so grand, and so wild. 
Thy name is a glory to each Highland child! 

We Southrons admire, and hail thee with love, 

Fair sister in language, and sister in Love! 

Thy glens and thy mountains, all covered in green, 
Or purple with heather, and gorse may be seen, 
The stags gallop freely; the birds roam at will; 

The salmon are springing in River and Rill! 

Thy breezes, and blasts are a part of thy lot! 

In Scotland, I trow it is never too hot! 

When wintry snow falls it comes floating in glee. 
To make drifts and banks—of a deep density! 

So when we’re in search of a splendid new brace, 
We fly up to Scotland, for that is the place! 

Where freshest of breezes, and sweet airs do blow! 
We adore you, 0 Highlands, and to you we go! 

WHAT SAY THE BIRDS? 

What says the Turtle Dove? “Coo! coo! coo!” 
The Wood Pigeon answers “Do! do! do!” 

What says the House Sparrow? Tweet! tweet! 
tweet!” 

The song of the Bullfinch too is sweet! 

What says the Black Rook? “Oh! caw! caw!” 
Caw!” 

Give me food! food! food! I want some more.” 
And what says the Swallow? “Eaves! eaves! 
eaves!” 

No weather this clever bird deceives! 

What cries the Seagull, but “Land! land! land!” 
The Parrot mimics “Give me your hand!” 

Then the sparrow chirps out “House! house! 
house!” 

The old Owl is shrieking “Mouse! mouse! mouse!” 

A Lark sings “The world is at my feet!” 

The blue-tit whispers “Cocoa-nut’s sweet!” 

Robin Redbreast calls out “Snow! snow! snow!” 
The other birds chime in “Make him go!” 



AND OTHER POEMS 


185 


The Cuckoo declares “I want a rest! 

Let me get into somebody’s nest!” 

The Ostrich best understands the sand! 

Ducks whisper in the pond, “This is grand!” 

Turkeys say “Gobble! gobble! gobble!” 

Goose mutters “Wobble! wobble! wobble!” 

The Nightingale calls out “A trill! a trill!” 

The voice of the Peacock is always shrill! 

The stork says “Good-even! ma’am, good-even! 

I’ve brought you a Baby down from Heaven!’ 

THE PEACE 
Signed, July 19, 1919 

Sign it Nations! Sign it, People! sign it with your 
hearts’ best blood. 

Write it as the preservation of all this world holds 
as good! 

Wipe away from minds and feelings all desire 
for fight or strife: 

Turn your thoughts with one great purpose to a 
nobler, higher life! 

Seek not gain, and seek not glory, nor your bro¬ 
thers to excel, 

Rather be for you the story of a life lived pure 
and well, 

Rather seek to raise your fellows, and to help them 
on the Way, 

For we all must tread it, comrades, as we march 
to endless Day! 

Lay aside the sword and spearhead, turn them into 
pruning-hooks, 

Down with armaments and battles!,Down with 
murderous high looks! 

Seek for Justice, Kindness, Patience! Toil with 
gladness, till your souls 

Sweet repose and peace shall find you everywhere 
as Time unrolls! 


186 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Calmer, purer, wiser, better, let all outward strife 
now cease, 

But within yourselves do battle for an everlasting 
Peace! 

Then shall God, the One Who made us, draw us to 
His higher world, 

Where with saints and angels we shall find all 
strife is downward hurled! 


A MOTHER S LOVE 

O Mother! sweetest name that we have known, 
Since Memory back to childhood’s days hath 
flown, 

Thou occupies*, regal and alone, 

In every heart a dear and sacred throne! 

What sweeter thing is there than Mother’s love? 
Type of the spirit of our God above! 

Tho’ wayward hearts in youth may often roam, 

A Mother’s love will surely draw them home! 
Beginning with that life which God did send, 
Following, as on the path of youth we wend, 
Helping when under burdens sore we bend, 

Tis Mother’s love shall meet us at the end. 


THE GARDEN 

I know a wondrous garden into which, thank God, 
are set 

The most beautiful sw^eet flowers—from rose to 
mignonette 

There lilies tall, and violets small, and roses of all 
hues, 

Bloom on from Spring to Summer, fresh and fair 
beneath the dews. 

Delphiniums and phloxes, snowdrops, yellow' 
daffodils 

As weeks go by our eyes console, and all their 
beauty fills 

Us with content and gladness, for they comfort us 
again, 

When thro’ the Winter’s sadness we have met all 
sorts of pain! 


AND OTHER POEMS 187 

Geraniums and carnations, eglantine and daisies 
sweet 

Bluebells and buttercups, and wild rose in one 
glad throng meet. 

And jasmine, clematis, and honeysuckle climb 
the walls, 

But the Roses!—ah, the Roses!—their splendour 
us enthrals! 

The world is just this garden, and the women are 
its flowers! 

Their beauty meets us everywhere, and fills the 
passing hours 

With cheerful interest, and with peace, and what 
variety 

They show these lovely flowers in the world to 
you and me! 

And some are gay and gladsome with youth’s 
laughter on their lips! 

They taste of all life’s pleasures, as a bee sweet 
honey sips. 

And some are tall and stately, just like lilies— 
full of peace— 

With consolation for our minds—helping our woes 
to cease! 

Their number—it is endless; their fragrance—like 
the flowers, 

And in their homes they stand about like buds in 
garden bowers. 

God’s own blossoms are these creatures—the wo¬ 
men of our land! 

Thank God for them—they bless us all—a lovely 
precious band! 


TO S. E. 

Dear Sally from the Emerald Isle, 

How winsome is your every smile! 
And with what lovely dainty grace 
Nature has touched your charming face! 

The piquant laugh, the speaking eyes, 
The hint of fun which never dies, 

The feeling mouth, and shell-like ear— 
All these are yours, my Sally dear! 


188 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The little hands, and dancing feet, 
Formed, all of them, for actions sweet 
Ah! I know one who wants to dally, 
And linger long with his sweet Sally! 

Accept these few short lines, I pray, 
And when we meet, on some near day, 
Dear Sally from the Emerald Isle, 
Greet me with your bewitching smile. 


YOUTH 

0! Youth, fair Youth looked forth one starry 
night 

And said, “I see around a wondrous sight, 

A world of beauty lies about me now, 

And all is mine to know and love, I trow!” 

Old age looked forth upon a shifting sphere. 

He said, “Ah, me! things are so strange and drear. 
How diff’rent was it all in years gone by!” 

Then drew inside and sat down with a sigh! 


TO SPIDER 

When I shall reach that other shore, 

This journey done, these trials o’er, 

I hope that I shall surely meet 
My darling dog—oh, he was sweet! 

For thirteen years with us he dwelt. 

Our joys—and sorrows too—he felt. 

His blessed little loving heart 
In all our, daily lives took part 

No sad complaints, no murmurs fell 
From out those lips we loved so well. 

His silky coat, by all admired, 

Was black, and he was well attired. 

He drove with us, or walked, or ran, 

And travelled too like any man. 

My dearest one, he sat beside her. 

All knew and loved him, our dog “Spider.” 


AND OTHER POEMS 


189 


THE LILIES 

One speck of brightness in a dingy street 
One bed of whiteness two by three square feet. 
One row of lilies filling up the whole. 

One thought of God just speaking to the Soul. 

One touch of radiance in a whole sad row 
Of tiny houses, dull and dark below, 

And just a group of lilies white and sweet, 
Where fragrance and beauty together meet. 

One Angel passing swiftly on thereby, 

Leading a pure soul upward to the sky, 

Beholds these lilies as he flies along, 

And from his lips escapes a happy song. 


THE INDEX 

Each of us bears an index. 
That’s plain enough to read: 

It tells the story complex 
Of character and deed 

This index serves to measure 
Our progress as we go. 

It speaks of work and pleasure— 
How time is passed below. 

What write we on the pages 
Of Life as it doth flow? 

What “contents” for the ages 
Will this, our Index, show? 

Each hour leaves some traces 
Upon the Index sure, 

On mankind’s countless faces 
Its record doth endure. 

It speaks of Peace and gladness, 
Of friendly attitude, 

Of grief, regret and sadness, 

Of hope or gratitude 


190 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Of joy and triumph surely— 

Of love, or loss, or pain, 

And it reflecteth purely 
Pictures of Life again 

I’ll tell you where to find it— 

This Index to the Life, 

For truly nought can blind it 
To marks of moving strife. 

This Index a man weareth 
Each day in the same place 
(And for it much he careth) 

’Tis just his human face! 

A BALL IN THE GARDEN 
TO G. G. 

The trees are giving a Ball to-night! 

They told me so as I passed upright 
Between them all in the bright Moonlight, 

Along the paths of the garden! 

And some will dance with the Hollyhocks, 
While others prefer the small white Stocks! 

The Sunflowers dress their golden locks 
Along the paths of the Garden! 

Some of the Roses were blushing red— 

They rather thought of the dance with dread. 
And had much preferred to stay in bed— 

Along the paths of the Garden. 

The Lilies had sent for their new frocks. 

They towered above the small white Phlox, 

Amid the slender, pink Lady’s Smocks, 

Along the paths of the Garden! 

The trees were stretching their arms quite wide- 
Each hoped to win on this night a bride 
“And won’t it be fun,” the flowers cried, 

‘To have a Ball in the Garden?” 

Then the Evening Star came out to see, 

And smiled on this new festivity, 

And she beamed with great benignity 
Upon the paths of the Garden! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


191 


A whispering breeze rushed thro’ the air— 
Spreading the news about everywhere! 

The night is fine, and the moon shines fair, 
And there’s to be, O! happening rare, 

A Ball to- night in the Garden! 


MARY MAGDALENE 

Who is this that comes with weeping—trailing 
golden hair behind? 

Scarcely are her eyelids keeping back the tear* 
that make them blind. 

Drooping form and aspect weary, woe depicted 
everywhere. 

Hosts above a watch are keeping, guarding her 
from sheer despair! 

This is Mary Magdalene, who of sorrows knew the 
worst— 

Torn by sinful passions, stealing out alone to 
slake her thirst 

At a Fountain in the Valley quiet—known to few 
but her, 

Here alone, in silence feeling far away from the 
world’s stir! 

Long ago, one night, when starlight gathered o’er 
the sleeping plain. 

Here she came for lover’s meeting, and since then 
that love is slain! 

Now repentance—but no greeting—for her lover 
she doth bear. 

One alone has power to move her, One who sees 
her everywhere! 

Since she met Christ by the wayside thoughts of 
others fell away. 

Who such Majesty remember ne’er can bide with 
common clay? 

Who that once beheld Him, knew Him, can to 
others give a thought? 

Save by seeking that unto Him they shall to His 
feet be brought 


192 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Mary! Mary Magdalene! henceforth ever art thou 
known 

By thy love for One who left behind Him an Eter¬ 
nal throne! 

Came to earth, here, just to succour such as thou, 
and others too, 

Leading them, by ways unthought of, to celestial 
pastures new. 

Happy Mary Magdalene who could’st follow in His 
train— 

Sin forgoten—self unheeded—nothing hoped for 
earthly gain. 

Blessed ears that heard his Voice in mercy bending 
whisp’ring o’er, 

“Yea, my child, thou art forgiven! Go thy way 
and sin no more!” 


ST. PAUL 

One who was chosen as a mighty Teacher, 

Who knew and followed Thee along the Way— 
Gifted with power—made into a Preacher, 

Is Paul remembered in the world to- day. 

One who saw a light all about him shining, 
Listened, and prostrate fell, and heard a Voice 
Coming from heaven—partially divining 
Miracle, and wonder—making him rejoice. 

“Saul, Saul, why persecutest Thou thy Master 
Is it not hard to kick against the pricks?” 

Tears of repentance falling faster, faster— 

Thy soul the dust in self- abasement licks. 

Rise and be going! Work for thee is waiting! 

On towards Damascus lies thy darkened way. 
Nought of thy zeal thou needest be abating; 

Only the end is changed by this to-day. 

Thou shalt be preacher for Me to the Gentiles, 
Carry a message—precious, wide, and far; 

Sail stormy seas, and tread on poisoned reptiles. 

No earthly dangers need thy journeys mar. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


193 


For thou art chosen—listen, Saul of Tarsus.. 

To the great spreading of My Gospel wide; 

Writing and speaking, make it ever known thus, 
And this is work for none but thee beside. 

Tarry not I Onward to thy way appointed I 
All must thou suffer for sake of My Name. 

Saul is a vessel—chosen and anointed. 

Angels are watching—knowing of the same!” 

So Paul arose from seeing of this vision— 

On to Damascus led by other men— 

Weighing in mind the new and great decision 
Which he must take for work and preaching 
—then 

No longer Persecutor, but persecuted, 

No longer free to follow his own will. 

Bound by a conscience—a plan executed— 

All he could do—to listen and be still. 

Are we not also possibly selected 
Some special mission on this earth to fill? 

By prayer and searching it may be detected— 
Christ, with a message, shall our beings thrill. 

Not Paul alone, but every human being 
In some past time has persecuted Christ. 

Then at a crucial moment came the seeing, 

And he was called upon to keep a tryst 

With his Redeemer—change his whole outpouring 
Of thought and action to another line, 

Silence and blindness—then a great restoring 
And a devotion to this work Divine. 

So, Saul of Tarsus, thou wast an example! 

Yea—and a type for all humanity! 

First, guiltiness, and then a true ensample 

Of what all men should seek and strive to be. 


194 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


EASTER SUNDAY 

Now, once more, the Dawn is breaking! 

Thro’ the clouds we daylight see! 

Easter Sunday comes again; 0 day of glad fes¬ 
tivity ! 

Day of blessing, hope confessing, gratefully we 
turn to Thee! 

Thou hast risen, 0 Our Saviour, yet returned with 
us to be! 

Miracle of wonder, pouring o’er the fainting hu¬ 
man heart! 

Death by Life is conquered! soaring upwards may 
the Angels start. 

They have witnessed and beheld it; seen the Resur¬ 
rection Morn, 

Stones and tombs could not withhold Him, 

Who would rise, our King—new born! 

Glory, glory hallelujah; sing God’s praises now 
and aye 

We shall rise, for He has risen on this gladsome 
Easter Day. 

Christ, our Master, calls us, saying, “Look! Be¬ 
hold Me with your eyes, 

Children, I, who died to save you do up from the 
Tomb arise. 

I have conquered Death, and mighty is My power 
now to save. 

Yea, from Death the sting is taken, and all Victory 
from the Grave!” 

Glory, glory, hallelujah! on this happy Easter 
morn, 

Sing we too, with angels praises, to the Prince of 
Peace new born. 

Nothing daunted Him, no suffering was too great 
for Him to bear 

By His mighty love He conquered, and His triumph 
now we share. 

Perfect ecstasy of rapture fills our hearts as we 
proclaim. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


195 


Satan falls, for God is mighty, sing glad praises 
to His Name! 

Easter- tide is once more with us, Resurrection’s 
mighty power. 

Hail! great God, awake within us, manifest Thy¬ 
self this hour! 


OF SHAKESPEARE 

Will Shakespeare, whom the world has known 
For nigh four centuries at least, 

To all Mankind has now been shown 
Of Literature the great High Priest! 

Simple his origin! His mind— 

Inspired straight from source above, 

Nourished by flower, wood, and wind, 

Enriched by thoughts of human love— 

Knew yet by some mysterious power, 

To picture every earthly scene: 

Imagination—Fancy’s dower— 

Taught him of all things that had been! 

Before him History unrolled 
Her pages bright, or sad, or gay, 

For heroes he the death-knell tolled. 

For ladies sang a bridal lay! 

No theme too varied or too wide! 

Touched by the magic of his pen, 

Soldiers, their chargers quick bestride, 

And armies take the field again! 

Lovers dispute, or fairies glide, 

Lawyers discuss, and fools may jest! 

Martyrs lay down their lives, or bide 
Lingering in prison—unconfest! 

Portia may plead, or Shylock rave! 
Philosophers discourse at will. 

From childhood’s cradle to the grave 
Great Shakespeare leads and dazzles still 


196 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


With rhetoric, and with words so fair 
We need them in our daily life. 

Ills gay world we with others share. 

Our language with his speech is rife. 

Next to the Bible, mankind take 
Sweet Shakespeare’s sayings most to heart. 
Enshrined within us all they make 
Of earthly life a heavenly part! 

ON MILTON 

Milton—so blind— and yet so great! 

His mind surcharged with power profound, 
Monarch of language fair he sate 
Wielding a sceptre far around! 

That brain, his great Creator’s gift, 

Was bent on serving all mankind! 

Within what scenes would pass and shift, 
Tho’ outwardly, men called him blind! 

Visions of Angels, or of men,— 

Gardens where Eve and Adam trod, 
Ladders he planted, where again 
Souls might ascend upward to God. 

Sights for the eyes of others he 
Provided, tho’ he sat in dark! 

And when he called for melody, 

What answer came there? Listen! hark! 

Paeans of music! Language burst 
Like fountains from the clouds above, 

To satisfy the mental thirst, 

And teach a hungering world to love! 

PILGRIMS 

A Pilgrim on this wond’rous earth am I, 

And just a traveller ’twixt it and the sky 
From day to day I mark a milestone passed, 
And often say, “Why, here’s the week at last 
Completed, and another Sunday come. 

For rest and happiness within the home.” 


AND OTHER POEMS 


197 


A number large of Pilgrims travel here, 

They must go on and move from year to year, 

No permanent abiding-place is found 
On any portion of this big earth-ground, 

And some are travellers, clad in furs and silk, 
While some wear rags and tatters, and such ilk! 

But deep within each heart! Oh, look within 
The mirror that reflects or joy or sin! 

Some smiling faces happily do glow 
Behind the poorest garments as they go, 

Some vestures rich and costly, and so fair, 

Hide feelings that are mingled with despair! 

And only One who looks beyond all these 
Can tell which Pilgrims most do serve and please! 
So count your stations, friends, as on you go, 
From Childhood up to Manhood, travel so 
That as you go along you’re sure to find, 

The weary, dullest places left behind. 

And keep your inward Mirror clear and bright 
For joy, reflecting cheerful, happy light, 

So shall you cheer all other Pilgrims who 
May chance to travel the same road with you! 


ON DARKNESS 

Darkness is to the World a tender cloud 
Coming our senses often to enshroud; 

When we are quite worn out, and spent with care, 
She soothes and heals us gently everywhere. 

Oh! who would not rest quietly awhile 
Beneath the shadow of her wings? Beguile 
A few short hours—link them with repose— 

Then start again for better work! Who knows 

The power of darkness to refresh and soothe, 

The rugged lines of sorrow, too, to smooth 
To- day the tears of agony and sorrow— 

To furnish strength for work again, the Morrow! 


198 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


Yes, Darkness and her lovely sister Light, 

Both claim our gratitude; for is not Night 
r lhe time in which we prayerful vigil keep; 

“He gives to His beloved in their sleep!” 

Oh, weary eyes! Oh, tired strained brain! 

How gladly do you welcome night again. 

How gently darkness throws a veil o’er you 
To bless and heal, to comfort and renew. 

PRAYER 

Prayer is the soul’s deep communing with God. 
We follow where the Saints and Martyrs trod. 

We ask for help—we lay our troubles down 
Before him who has worn both Gross and Crown. 

Within the heart of every child of God 
There dwells the yearning to enrich the sod 
Of earth below, which he must leave behind, 

With something of real value to mankind. 

In solemn silence, longing for more light, 

The Christian looks towards that inward sight, 
Which he shall find alone, but when, and where? 
It is indeed the silent hour of Prayer! 

TO LILIAN WHITING 

O friend , so faithful, tho’ so far away, 

My thoughts must fly to you on many a day! 

Can distance dim the Soul’s angelic light— 

Shines not your influence like a Star so bright? 

When sorrow, or when suffering must be borne, 
Your comfort and your guidance less forlorn 
E’er makes my heart! Tho’ seas may separate, 
Who calls you “Friend” proclaims a happy Fate! 

Your teaching makes each trial seem more light; 
Your counsel guides with wisdom thro’ the night! 
And to have known you is an education, 

Which tends to lead to a more full salvation. 

For one who knew, proclaimed the truth in this— 
“Salvation rescues us from selfishness!” 
“Calamity may prove a light and leading!” 

For this great truth you’ve oftentimes been plead¬ 
ing. 

Of all great benefits that man can measure, 

To know and love you is the greatest pleasure! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


199 


THE COPTIC SCROLL 

Deep hid within a vasty pyramid, 

Close iby a carved sarcophagus stone lid, 

There lay for many years a Coptic scroll, 
Containing the outpourings of a soul. 

It was encompassed by a band of gold, 

Just waiting, as it were, to be unrolled. 

And nights succeeded days, and days the nights. 
While far above in Heaven the great lights 
Of Sun, and Moon, and Stars, still poured their 
rays 

Upon the Earth, all shining to God's praise. 

So years passed by, and still that Coptic scroll 
Lay waiting for the hand that should unroll. 

At last, one winter, floating down the Nile, 

On dahabeah, in the ancient style, _ 

(Not the fast steamer of our modern days, 

Which no dream life romantic doth upraise), 
Came there a Student—one whose quiet ways 
Were well in keeping with such halcyon days. 

Slowly he paced the deck, and wandered oft 
Abroad at night time, while his gaze aloft 
Surveyed the stars, seeking in them to find 
Some answer to the questions in his mind. 

For thro’ the misty past, with shadows dim, 
There seemed to come an inkling strange to him. 

Of years long gone, perhaps another life 
When he had passed this way before, and rife 
The fancies were that to his active brain 
Came surging often, o’er and o’er again. 
Sometimes he thought he could remember, too, 

A lady fair, whose love he sought to woo. 

And days of festival and majesty 

Were his, and some great soul felicity 

He had experienced, but now ’twas hard 

This to recall, for recent years had marred 

All such impressions, stamped within his brain, 

Nor could he grasp again the joy or pain. 


200 


THE PARLIAMENT OF BIRDS 


The dahabeah is lying moored to-day 
Beside the mud-banks, and the sailors stay 
Upon her decks, and wash them white and clean, 
With singing strange, their movements all be¬ 
tween. 

And with his friends the Student now has passed 
To visit that great Pyramid at last. 

The Coptic Scroll shall find its place to-day 
Within his hand. He spied it where it lay 
Beside the old stone-carved and antique lid 
Of a great tomb within the Pyramid. 

And now again that scroll belongs to him 
Who once before had filled it to the brim 
With utterances of poetic lore. 

For understand, O reader, that before 
In centuries long past, this self-same soul 
In a Poet’s body did indite that scroll. 

He knows it not. Yet his own history past 
Shall soon reveal itself as something vast; 

And reading o’er each deep prophetic word, 

The very centre of his soul be stirred. 

And he shall one day know who wrote that scroll; 


It was in former years his own great soul. 




























































































































































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